


In the Right Measure

by Bad_Faery



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Remix, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Faery/pseuds/Bad_Faery
Summary: Ciaran Gold is dying, and he refuses to drag Belle down with him.  If he has to break her heart to set her free, so be it.A remix of "Four Walls" where Belle and Gold are in a relationship prior to his diagnosis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Four Walls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140363) by [Bad_Faery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Faery/pseuds/Bad_Faery). 



“How long do I have?”

Gold’s throat was tight as he forced the words out.  When his doctor suggested that he see a cardiologist during his annual physical, Gold had expected Dr. Whale to tell him to restrict his salt intake or perhaps start him on medication for high blood pressure.  He hadn’t expected _this_.

Whale swallowed hard.  "Without a heart transplant… six months?  Perhaps a year.  But there’s no reason to assume the worst.  Once you’re on the transplant list—"

“Once I’m on the transplant list, _what_?” Gold snarled.  "With my blood type, what are the odds of a heart becoming available in the time I have left?  Realistically?“

The doctor looked down at his hands with a wince.  "Realistically?  Slim.  Probably very slim.  But you can’t give up hope, Mr. Gold.”

After that, there wasn’t much left to say.  Whale gave him a grocery bag filled with medication to alleviate his symptoms and attempt to delay the inevitable, but the pills were nothing more than a stopgap measure.  

He was dying.

Gold slammed an impotent fist into the side of the Cadillac’s steering wheel as he pulled out of the hospital’s parking lot and headed for the beach.  At this time of year, no one else was likely to be there, and solitude was what he desired most right now.  He couldn’t bear to walk the streets of Storybrooke surrounded by people whose lives were blissfully carefree when his own was about to end.  He certainly couldn’t go to the shop and face Dove or home to Belle.

Belle.

Gold held himself together long enough to park the car, then lowered his head with a strangled sob.  It wasn’t _fair_.  He and Belle had confessed their feelings for each other only six months ago, and there were days when he still couldn’t believe that his precious housekeeper actually _loved_ him.  They’d just started making plans to travel together and see the world like Belle had always dreamed.  They were going to Paris next month where he was planning to propose.  He’d never been happier in his life.

And now his life was ending.

The picture Whale had painted of his immediate future was a bleak one.  The best case scenario was that he would lose his strength slowly and steadily over the next few months until he was confined to bed, unable to leave it even to use the bathroom.  The worst case scenario was that his ticking time bomb of a heart would simply give out, cardiac arrest either killing him outright or turning him into an instant invalid.

What kind of life was that to offer Belle?

Paris was out of the question now.  Whale had been clear about that.  Belle wanted to travel the world, and instead, he would be chaining her to Storybrooke and sentencing her to a future spent spoon-feeding him and wiping his ass because he was too weak to do it himself.

The image made him retch.

The worst part was that she would do it.  Belle would wear herself to the bone taking care of him, and she’d never breathe a word of complaint.  She would nurse him because she loved him, and every day he would fade a little more until there was nothing left at all.

He couldn’t do it.

Belle deserved freedom and happiness.  She should be out having adventures, not confined to a sick room watching him waste away to nothing.  He couldn’t do that to her.  He _wouldn’t._

Gold’s mind raced as he tried to formulate a plan.  If he told her the truth, nothing would tear her from his side.  Belle was too noble for her own good.  She would consider it her duty to care for him no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise.

Ergo, he couldn’t tell her the truth.  

If he had to break her heart to set her free, Gold would do it.  Belle was young and resilient.  She would be sad if he ended their relationship, but it wouldn’t take her long to move on.  A windfall inheritance from a distant relative— arranged by Midas— would distract her, and perhaps on her travels she would meet a handsome young man to replace him.  

Belle loved him, but Gold was well aware that he was simply the best of the limited options available to her in Storybrooke.  Once she got a taste of what the world held in store for her, she’d wonder what she ever saw in her grumpy old employer.

He would be cruel to be kind.  A few weeks of heartbreak would set her free to have all of her dreams come true.  She would travel and fall in love and be happy, and that was enough for him.  Gold would leave Storybrooke and rent a little cottage in some insignificant little town that Belle would never visit.  He’d live out the short time remaining to him content to know that she was living her dreams, and in his will, he’d leave her everything he owned and a letter of apology, explaining it all.  

She would understand.  She would probably be grateful that he’d spared her the pain of watching him die, and perhaps she and her new love would name one of their children after him.

Gold clenched his teeth on a cry of anguish at the thought of Belle falling in love with another man, but he swallowed it down.  He couldn’t be selfish.  Not when Belle’s happiness was at stake.

His chest throbbed, and he glanced down as he put the car in drive, wondering if that was a symptom of his physical condition or just his heart breaking.  It didn’t really matter.  To ensure Belle’s happiness Gold would willingly carve his heart out of his chest.  In comparison, telling her that he no longer wanted her would be easy.

He could do this, he reassured himself as he headed for the house, mentally rehearsing the lies he was about to tell.

It was the right thing to do.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ciaran!  You’re home!”

Belle’s smile was incandescent as she greeted him, her blue eyes sparkling with love and happiness just because he’d walked in the door.  He hadn’t done a single thing to earn that smile.  All he’d done was walk through his front door, and Belle was glowing.

He couldn’t do this.

“I’m home,” Gold agreed, not sure what to do with his hands.  On a normal day, he’d already have his arms around her, but this wasn’t a normal day.  If he was going to tell her he didn’t love her any more, he should probably be scowling at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that would erase that beautiful smile from her face.

Instead, he did nothing, and her smile faded anyway.  Belle stepped closer to him, her face growing anxious.  "Are you okay?  You seem a little down.  You had that appointment with Dr. Whale.  Is everything all right?“

Her genuine concern broke his heart.  She cared about him— _loved_ him.  How could he lie to her?  

He could lie to her because it was the right thing to do.  "Just a touch of a headache.  Whale had nothing but good things to say.”

“Poor darling,” Belle cooed, leaning up to brush a soft kiss against his lips.  "Come sit down, and I’ll get you an aspirin.“

Helplessly, Gold allowed her to lead him into the living room, her gentle hands divesting him of his jacket, waistcoat, and tie in rapid succession before she pushed him down into his favorite chair.  

"Here you go,” she announced as she produced the painkillers and a glass of water.  Once he’d taken the medication, she moved to stand behind him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before she started to massage his neck and shoulders.

“No wonder you have a headache, you’re tied up in knots.  Did you have a bad day?”

Tears came to Gold’s eyes at her tender ministrations, and he closed his eyes to hide them, glad she was behind him.  "No more taxing than usual.“

"You work too hard,” Belle scolded.

“I’ll take tomorrow off,” Gold heard himself promise rashly.

What harm could one more day do?  He could have one last priceless day with his beloved.  They could cuddle in bed and read together in front of the fire.  Or Belle could read while he simply basked in her presence, storing up memories that would sustain him in the dark days to come.  It was just one day.  Surely that wasn’t too much to ask of the universe.

Really, it was probably better to delay his plan by a day.  If he came home from his appointment with Whale and immediately cast her out, she might suspect something, and that would never do.  Belle wasn’t stupid.  If he completely changed the way he treated her, she’d want to know the reason why.

Perhaps he could manufacture some kind of fight.  He could take exception to something she did tomorrow and say ugly things until she decided she was better off without him.  Yes, that was the way to do it.  If the breakup was her idea, it would hurt her less.

Gold muffled the little voice in the back of his head that told him he was being a coward.  He _would_ set Belle free, just… not yet.

“The entire day?  Who are you and what have you done with Ciaran Gold?” Belle asked, her suspicious tone giving way to an affectionate giggle.  

Gold gave himself over to the present moment.  For the time being, Belle was still his and he planned to enjoy every minute of it.  "He’s tied up in the basement of that dusty pawnshop.  You’re _mine_ now,“ he announced with a growl, grabbing her around the waist to yank her into his lap.  

"Help, help!” Belle cried, pretending to struggle in his arms.  

“There’s no escape,” he threatened as he slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt to tickle her side.  

Belle squealed as he tickled her, squirming in his lap until his body responded.  Whale had cautioned him against such activities, but Gold shoved those thoughts resolutely out of his head.  Tomorrow was soon enough to come to terms with his impending death.  For now, he just wanted to pretend.

“Stop!” Belle pleaded, tears of mirth leaking from her eyes, and Gold obeyed her command.

She sighed as she reached up to cradle the side of his face.  "I love it when you’re silly.“

With a ridiculous growl, he nipped at the side of her hand, loving the sound of her laughter.  How was he going to living without hearing it every day?

"You’re feeling better,” Belle diagnosed, and she was almost correct.

“You’re good medicine.”  Gold ran his hand down her back.  If Belle’s love could cure him, he would live to be a hundred, and it still wouldn’t be enough time.  An eternity wouldn’t be long enough to spend together.  How was he going to find the strength to let her go?

If Belle was at his side, he wouldn’t be afraid.  With her warmth to comfort him and her smile to give him strength, he would be able to accept his body’s betrayal.  Dying would be bearable if she was with him.

He was being selfish.  What would comfort him would only hurt her.  Gold studied Belle’s face, imagining her eyes shadowed with grief and exhaustion.  Watching him slowly die would tear her apart, and he refused to allow that.  He wasn’t a courageous man, but for Belle, he would be brave.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he would be brave.  Tonight…

He leaned up and caught her lips with his own.  Tonight, he would be happy.  One last time.


	3. Chapter 3

It was all Gold could do to keep his smile in place as took his seat opposite Belle in their favorite booth at the diner.  It had been a glorious day— a long morning in bed followed by a lazy afternoon reading together and now dinner.  Belle was wearing the blue dress that was his special favorite, and her love for him was a palpable thing, warming all of the cold places in his soul.

He’d wanted one last day of happiness, but it had never occurred to Gold just how painful happiness could be.  He was keenly aware of time passing, a little voice in his head constantly pointing out that this was the very last time they would ever read together, the last time they would eat together at the diner, the last time they would make love.

As far as he was concerned, his impending death couldn’t come soon enough.

“I’m going to go say hi to Ruby, okay?”  Belle paused to kiss his cheek before she went to greet her friend, and Gold slumped back, his stomach churning at the thought that he’d felt the press of her lips for the last time.

His plan for the day was to pick a fight in hopes that he could enrage Belle enough to make her glad to wash her hands of him.  It shouldn’t have been hard; after all, he had decades of practice at being unpleasant and unreasonable.  Angering people was second nature to him.  Yet, somehow it was impossible to fight with Belle.  She was too perfect, giving him no opening to even pretend to take offense at something she’d done.

Gold turned to watch as Belle crossed the room, smiling as she greeted everyone she passed.  All of Storybrooke loved Belle, which was as it should be.  She would have plenty of support after the breakup.

“Hell,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.  These people should be attending their wedding, not consoling a heartbroken Belle.  Damn Whale anyway.  And damn his own useless heart.  None of this was the slightest bit fair.

He blinked to clear the tears from his eyes and found himself staring at Belle, who was sitting at the counter next to a handsome young man with close-cropped dark hair and a leather jacket.  Gold, who thought he knew everyone in Storybrooke, was baffled.  A new arrival, perhaps?  From the way Belle was laughing and chatting away, she’d know the young man’s entire history and have a plan for which property they should rent to him by the time she made it back to their booth.

His fond smile vanished as an idea presented itself.  This was his opening.  He could fly into a jealous rage and accuse her of flirting with the new arrival.  Belle, who was loyal to a fault, wouldn’t stand for that, and when she defended herself, he could escalate matters until it all fell apart.

Gold took a deep breath, honing his anger.  It wasn’t _fair_ that he was dying.  It wasn’t _fair_ that he would only have six months of happiness with Belle.  It wasn’t _fair_ that this stranger was allowed to be near Belle when he had to let her go.  Gold might well be looking at his replacement.

Heat flared in his gut, his rage at the universe kindling until it burned white hot, and Gold fed the fire with everything he had.  He was going to lose Belle, and he hated the world and Whale and himself most of all.

“Ruby says hi and she’s sorry that service is slow,” Belle chirped as she reclaimed the seat across from him.  

“It looks like you made a new friend,” he snarled, acid in his voice.

Belle didn’t seem to notice.  "That’s Will.  He’s new in town.  He’s staying with Alice and Cyrus right now.  You remember them, right?  We met at the Rabbit Hole?  Anyway, I thought the apartment on Dodson Avenue might be a good fit.“

"You seemed very taken with him,” Gold accused, hating himself when Belle’s smile flickered.  

“Ciaran…”

She didn’t seem to know what to say, and Gold pushed a little harder.  "Bored with me already?  I should have known.“

Instead of striking back, Belle’s face cleared as she giggled.  "Oh yes, you’re terribly boring.  Especially that thing you did with your tongue last night.”

The memory of _that_ nearly upended him.  This was not going at all to plan.  Instead of taking offense at his accusations, Belle thought he was trying to tease her, and she was playing along.

“I won’t have you talking to other men.  I forbid it.”  That should do it.  Free-spirited Belle would never tolerate that sort of controlling behavior.

Her smile faded.  "Ciaran, that’s enough.  I don’t like this game.“

Neither did he, but the stakes were too high to stop now.  "You were leading him on.”

Belle glared at him, and Gold’s feeling of triumph nearly outweighed the nausea.  "You’re being ridiculous.“

Instead of railing at him, Belle plunged her hand into her purse and came up with a piece of chocolate.  "Here, eat this.”

He was being a bastard, and she was giving him a treat for it.  The incongruity completely derailed him.  "Why?“

"Because you’re being a miserable grouch, and you usually only do that when your blood sugar is low.  Now, eat the candy before I forget that I love you.”

It was impossible to fight with her.  Under Belle’s fierce gaze, Gold ate the chocolate, his anger melting away.  His darkness was no match for her light.  He couldn’t hate a universe that had given him Belle, even if only for a short time.  Even if they’d only had six months together, those were the best six months of his entire life.  

“I’m sorry.”  He was sorry for picking at her, but mostly he was sorry that this was only a temporary stay of execution.  Somehow, he was going to have to break her heart.

Oblivious to the impending doom, Belle reached across the table to take his hand.  "I forgive you.  Silly man.  Did you really think I’d flirt with some guy right in front of his girlfriend?“

"Hmm?”

“Didn’t you notice the gorgeous woman sitting next to Will?”

“Of course I saw you.”

Belle tossed her head back as she laughed out loud.  "Not me!  His _other_ side.  The blonde?  That’s his girlfriend, Ana.“

Gold glanced over to see who she was talking about.  He was so blind to anyone but Belle that the other woman’s existence hadn’t even registered with him.  No wonder she thought he’d taken leave of his senses.  "I suppose I _was_ being a bit silly.”

“As if I would ever want anyone but you.”  Belle smiled fondly as she leaned across the table for a kiss.  

Gold stifled the mental voice that pointed out that this was one of the last kisses they would ever share and simply enjoyed it.  His attempt to let Belle go had failed miserably, and that meant that he would have to come up with another plan, but that was a worry for tomorrow.

For now, he was going to make the most of this last perfect day.


	4. Chapter 4

Gold stepped through the stained glass door into the foyer, his cane the only thing keeping him upright.  The time had come, and the thought of what he was about to do clenched around his useless heart like a vice.

Yesterday had been perfection, but it couldn’t be put off any longer.  If he didn’t end his relationship with Belle now, he would never have the strength.  All too soon, his strength would fail him, turning him into the stone chaining Belle to the ground when she deserved to soar.  He couldn’t ask her to watch him die.  

The house was silent and still, and for a moment Gold allowed himself to hope that she wasn’t there.  He often came home for lunch, but he rarely did so without warning her first.  Belle could be out having lunch with a friend or shopping for a new book, and if she wasn’t home, he wouldn’t have to do what needed to be done.  

“Ciaran?  Is that you?”

His heart sank at the sound of her voice.  If Belle was here, there was no excuse for him to procrastinate any longer.

His throat was too constricted to speak, so he stood silently until she stepped into the foyer, her furrowed brow smoothing at the sight of him.

“I thought I heard you!  This is a nice surprise.”

When she moved to kiss him, Gold held up his hand to ward her off.  If he allowed her to touch him, he would be lost.

“We need to have a conversation.”  His voice was thick and rusty, but there was no help for that.

“That sounds serious,” Belle said.  Her tone was light, but he could read the concern in her eyes.  "Ciaran, what’s going on?“

He gestured for her to precede him into the living room.  Belle cast a wary look back at him over her shoulder as she moved to sit on the sofa, but she complied with his unspoken request.  Once she was seated, Gold claimed the armchair opposite her, his cane held ramrod stiff in both hands.

He’d rehearsed this speech a hundred times at the shop this morning, but now that the moment had come, the words were impossible to speak.  How could he tell her that he no longer loved her?  How could he be so cruel as to break her heart?

To continue their relationship would be crueler yet, he reminded himself.  Belle deserved better than to work herself to the bone taking care of his failing body, and the emotional labor would be even harder.  He knew her too well.  She would hold on to hope that a heart would be found for him until the moment he took his last breath, and he couldn’t torture her like that.  If he had to die, he wouldn’t take her down with him.

If it was for Belle, Gold could do anything.  With a deep breath, he summoned what little courage he possessed.  "I’ve been trying to find a good way to tell you this, but I don’t think there is one.  So, I’m just going to say it.  I am no longer happy in our relationship, and I’m choosing to end it.”

Belle’s mouth worked silently as her eyebrows lifted.  Tilting her head sharply to the right, she managed, “Excuse me?”

“While I value the time we spent together, I’ve come to realize that I prefer a solitary existence.  It’s truly nothing personal.”  Gold had dithered endlessly over whether to tell Belle that she had failed him in some way, but the lie was impossible to tell.  She was perfection, and if he tried to say otherwise, she’d see through him in an instant.

Belle shifted, glancing around the room as though searching for something.  "I don’t understand.  Ciaran, where is this coming from?“

"It’s been building for weeks, perhaps months,” he lied.  "I tried to work through it, but it’s impossible.  It’s over between us.“

Implying that he’d been dissatisfied for a lengthy period of time should put her off the scent of the truth.  Belle would be so busy looking back over the past weeks for hints of his unhappiness that she would forget all about the appointment with Whale that he’d already told her had been uneventful.  

"Why didn’t you _say_ something?  If there’s a problem, we can work though it together.”  Belle’s eyes pleaded with him.  

This was torture.  "The problem is mine, not yours.  I simply discovered that wanting something is very different than actually having it.“

That was a good line, and Gold congratulated himself before realizing that he’d stolen it from the _Star Trek_ marathon he and Belle had watched together while they were snowed in last February.  Hopefully, she wouldn’t recognize that.  

Belle swallowed hard.  "Ciaran, please.  Let’s talk about this.”

When she moved to stand, Gold held up his hand.  "There’s nothing to discuss.  My decision is final.  I’ll give you a generous severance package, of course.“

"You’re _firing_ me, too?”   Belle’s face went pink, and he wasn’t sure if it was with distress or anger.

“Under the circumstances, it would be inappropriate for you to continue on as my caretaker.  I would appreciate it if you would remove yourself and your things from the house by the time I return this evening.”  Just the thought of the house shorn of Belle’s presence made him want to cry.  For too long he’d puttered around the too-large Victorian by himself, but once Belle arrived, the house had become a home.  He’d filled it with things, but she’d filled it with warmth and laughter.  He didn’t know how he was going to live without that.

Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to live without her for long.

“Ciaran, why are you doing this?” Belle breathed.

It was all he could do to keep his mask in place.  "Under the circumstances, it would be appropriate for you to call me Mr. Gold.“

He stared fixedly at the handle of his cane, refusing to hear her strangled sob.  

"Tell me what’s going on,” Belle demanded, her voice shaking.  "Did someone threaten you?  Threaten _me_?  Are you in trouble?  This isn’t like you.“

"You don’t know me as well as you thought you did.  A pity.”  His lips burned at the lie, and he tried to turn the twist of his mouth into a sardonic smile.  

Belle leaned forward and braced her hands on her knees, her gaze boring into his forehead like she was trying to read his soul.  "Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me any more.“  

It would have been easier if she’d asked him to fly.  He couldn’t do this.  He couldn’t look at her and say those words.  How could he look her in the eye and coldly break her heart?

Because if he didn’t, he was damning her to something far worse.  Better a quick, cold break now than months of slow torture.  Yes, it would hurt her, but it would also set her free.  He refused to be the albatross around her neck that drowned her.

For Belle’s happiness, Gold would do anything.  Even lie.

It took every bit of strength he had to look up and meet her gaze, but he refused to let his agony show, and when he spoke, his words were calm and precise.  "I don’t love you any more.”

Belle slumped back with a whimper, her face crumpling like he’d struck her, and Gold could bear no more.  Every instinct he had was screaming at him to go to her and enfold her in his arms while he begged forgiveness, but he refused to give in to his cowardice.  For once in his wretched life, he would do the right thing.  He would let her go.

Without another word, he stood and left the house, and as he made his way back to the shop on legs that threatened to collapse beneath him, he prayed that his death would come soon.  

It couldn’t possibly hurt more than this.


	5. Chapter 5

Dove emerged from the back room at the sound of the bell, his face composed in a professional smile of greeting for the new customer that faded when Mr. Gold staggered across the threshold.  

“Sir?”  

He checked his movement to come around the counter and assist his employer when Mr. Gold held up a hand to ward him off.  The older man looked dreadful— his steps shaky and uncertain, his eyes bloodshot, his face so pale and drawn that Dove feared that he’d taken ill.

“Ah… Dove.” Mr. Gold braced his full weight on his cane and looked at him like he’d never seen his employee before.

“Are you feeling quite well, sir?” Dove asked carefully.  It would be the height of rudeness to tell Mr. Gold that he looked like death warmed over, but… he looked like death warmed over.

“Fine… fine…” Mr. Gold said in a distracted voice as he glanced around the shop.  "I have a task for you.“

"Of course, sir.”  Hopefully the task was to get him sitting down and then call a doctor and Miss French.  If not, Dove would have to find an excuse to do just that before completing his actual assignment.

Mr. Gold wobbled alarmingly before shoring himself up and meeting Dove’s eyes.  "Belle and I have ended our relationship.“

"I see.”  With effort, Dove bit back his exclamation of sympathy, knowing that his employer wouldn’t tolerate it.  No wonder he looked so dreadful.  Mr. Gold had been madly in love with Belle French for years and having her end their relationship would have been a terrible blow.

It wasn’t his place to wonder what had happened, but Dove couldn’t help but puzzle over it.  Miss French had seemed so _happy_ with Mr. Gold, and she’d loved him almost as long as he’d loved her.  Dove had already made a list of every possible wedding venue in Storybrooke with the pros and cons of each in preparation for an event he deemed inevitable.  This was completely unexpected.

“Belle wasn’t happy with my decision.  I want you to go to the house and… make sure she’s all right.  And help her pack her things.  I expect her to be moved out by the close of business today.”

Only his innate self-control kept Dove from gaping at his employer.  " _Sir_?“

He glanced down at the ledger on the counter in front of him and read it quickly, then glanced away before looking down to read it again.  In dreams, text never remained consistent between readings, but the ledger stubbornly continued to show that Ruby Lucas had paid her rent for the month.  It seemed that he was, indeed, awake.

None of this made any _sense_.  Mr. Gold had been giddy as a schoolboy for weeks after he and Miss French had finally voiced their feelings for each other.  Even six months later, Dove occasionally caught the older man staring blankly into space with a silly smile on his face.  He _adored_ Miss French, and Dove couldn’t imagine any possible reason that Mr. Gold would decide to end their relationship.

Had she been unfaithful, perhaps?  Even as the hypothesis occurred to him, Dove dismissed it.  That would be completely out of character for Miss French.  In truth, he couldn’t imagine her doing anything to provoke Mr. Gold enough to end their relationship.  She might take him to task for predatory business practices, but that would hardly enrage his employer to the extent that he washed his hands of her.  Experience told Dove that Mr. Gold was far more likely to yield to whatever concessions Miss French wanted him to make, although he might grumble a bit about it.

Something was terribly wrong here.

"You heard me.”  Mr. Gold’s voice broke as he tried to snarl, and he quickly averted his face as he brushed past Dove on the way to the back room.

It wasn’t Dove’s place to press for an explanation.  Mr. Gold had given him a task, and it was his duty to complete that task, no matter how bizarre it seemed to him.  Considering the mood Mr. Gold was in, failure to comply might well result in Dove’s termination, and if that happened, he would be in no position to understand what had gone wrong between Mr. Gold and Miss French, let alone fix it.  For now, his best course of action was to keep his head down and gather as much information as he could.  

To that end, he looked forward to speaking with Miss French.  When he arrived at the pink Victorian, the front door was open by several inches, and Dove frowned at the sight before pushing it open.

“Ciaran?”  Miss French rounded the corner from the living room into the foyer, her blotchy face falling when she saw the new arrival.  "Oh.  Dove.“

She wrapped her arms around her waist, curling in on herself like she was in agony, and Dove’s heart ached at her distress.  "My apologies, Miss French.  The door was open.”  

She bobbed gently from side to side, her bloodshot eyes fixed on the floor.  "It’s fine.  What can I do for you?“

"Mr. Gold sent me.”

Miss French’s head jerked up so fast that his own neck ached in sympathy, and Dove tasted bile at the naked hope in her expression.  He wished he had better news for her, but the only kindness he could offer was to rip the bandage off as quickly as possible.

“He asked me to help you pack your things.”

A stifled sob answered him, but Miss French’s face remained dry.  After a moment, she lifted her head, fixing him with a desperate gaze.  "Dove, what’s going on?  Do you know?  Did something happen at the shop?  Has Ciaran… has he been seeing someone else?“

On that matter, at least, he could set her mind at rest.  Since the day he met her, Mr. Gold had had eyes only for Miss French.  "Nothing like that, Miss French.  Until this afternoon, I believed him to be completely devoted to you.  I was quite taken aback when he told me your relationship was at an end.  There were no warning signs.”

“It’s like a nightmare.  I keep hoping I’ll wake up, but I can’t.  I don’t understand.  We were so _happy_.”  She wobbled a little, and it was all Dove could do to keep from scooping her up and putting her to bed.  She needed rest to recover from this shock, but that wasn’t why he was here.

“What am I going to do?” she asked, a quaver in her voice.

Either Miss French was a consummate actress or she was as blindsided by this development as Dove was himself, and he was willing to bet it was the latter.  Something was horribly wrong here, and he wished he had some words of wisdom for her.

“I recommend giving him space.  There is something here that we are not seeing, but the truth always comes out in the end.”  Mr. Gold was never at his best when he felt cornered.  If Miss French insisted on remaining in the house, things could take an ugly turn.  On the other hand, if she made a pretense of complying with his request to leave, the shock of losing her might be enough to jolt him out of whatever insanity had taken hold of him.  If not, it would at least create room for Dove to try to solve this mystery.

Miss French nodded.  "You’re right.  I hate it, but you’re right.“

Despite her emotional turmoil, Miss French did an efficient job of packing her things, leaving Dove little to do except carry the bags to her car.  In less than an hour, she removed all trace of herself from the house, save for a pearl necklace that she arranged so that it just peeked out from behind the dresser.

"He gave me that,” she explained when she saw him looking.  "He… he liked to see me wear it.“

Dove caught her meaning at once.  The forgotten necklace would provide an excuse for Mr. Gold to contact her if he was so inclined.  If nothing else, it would serve as a reminder of their relationship.  "You’re a wise woman, Miss French.”

He retreated downstairs to allow her to say a private goodbye to the house she’d shared with Mr. Gold.  To his surprise, she didn’t make him wait long before joining him in the foyer.  "I’m ready.“

"Do you have somewhere to go?” he queried.  Granny’s bed and breakfast was a possibility if Miss French didn’t wish to move back in with her father, but her taking a room there would invite all sorts of gossip that she would probably prefer to avoid.  In hindsight, he should have texted Lina and asked if she would mind if he offered Miss French a room with them.

His worries were for naught.  "I’m claiming the apartment above the old library.  It’s furnished, and I’ve always liked it.  If Ciaran isn’t happy about it… oh well.“

Miss French’s lips were set in a stubborn line, and he admired her courage.  Mr. Gold hurt her, but he didn’t break her.  When his employer finally came to his senses, there would be hell to pay.  Dove thoroughly approved.

It took only slightly longer to arrange the library apartment to suit Miss French than it had taken her to pack her things in the first place, meaning that, sooner than he’d planned, Dove had no reason to linger in her new abode.  

"You will call me if you need anything?” he asked, making plans to come see her the next day.  A housewarming gift would be appropriate under the circumstances.

To his surprise, Miss French wrapped her arms around his middle in a tight hug.  "Thank you, Dove.“

He patted her back gently, wishing there was more he could do for her.  "I will come by tomorrow to visit and bring dinner.”

“I’d like that.”  Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She walked him to the door, then hesitated.  "You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you?  Ciaran, I mean.“

Under the hurt and anger was an ocean of worry, a sentiment that Dove shared.  "Both eyes,” he promised.

There was a mystery to be unraveled here, and Dove was very good at solving puzzles.  This one would be no exception. He _would_ get to the bottom of this.


	6. Chapter 6

The disapproval radiating off of Dove was palpable, but to Gold’s relief, the big man kept his personal thoughts about the task he’d been assigned to himself as he made his report.

“As you requested, I assisted Miss French in packing her belongings.  After that, I escorted her to the apartment above the former town library.  She indicated that she was planning to remain there for the foreseeable future.”

Gold clenched his jaw, feeling a stabbing pain in his chest at the thought of Belle living anywhere except with him in the pink Victorian.  Or perhaps that was his heart condition flaring up.  It was impossible to tell, and he supposed that it didn’t really matter.  He had no right to feel sorry for himself when he was the one who’d banished her from the home they shared.

He took a breath as the pain faded, reflecting on the wisdom of Belle’s choice of abode.  The library apartment wasn’t large, but it was cozy and comfortably furnished, and the old library was as well fortified as a medieval castle.  Belle would be safe there, and she would have more privacy than she would have had if she’d taken a room at the bed and breakfast or moved back in with her father.  

“Thank you, Dove.”  With effort, Gold refrained from asking anything more, but he continued to stare at Dove, willing his employee to answer the questions Gold wasn’t asking— _Did she cry?  Was she angry?  Does she hate me?_

Dove held Gold’s gaze and his own silence, his eyes revealing nothing and seeing far too much.  Swallowing hard, Gold looked away first.  "That will be all.“

The rest of the day passed in a blur until closing time.  For years, the highlight of Gold’s day had been the moment he returned home from his day’s work.  Practically from the first day she worked for him, Belle had greeted him at the door with a smile and genuine interest in how his day had gone, something he’d never had before and was instantly addicted to.  For the last six months, she’d greeted him, not just with a smile, but with kisses and assurances that she’d missed him every bit as much as he’d missed her during the hours they were separated.

Now as Gold stepped through his front door, he was greeted only by emptiness and silence.  There was no Belle to welcome him, her eyes shining with pleasure at the sight of him.  There were no warm arms to wrap around him and soothe away the stresses of the day.  He was home, but there was no feeling of homecoming.

Without Belle, this wasn’t home any more.  It was just a house.  His home was currently ensconced above the library, probably loathing him.

Gold slumped back against the front door, the strength flowing out of his body as his heart clenched, feeling as though it was being crushed in a vice.  He couldn’t do this.  He couldn’t be in this house where she wasn’t.  He couldn’t go back to being lonely and miserable like he’d been in those dark decades before Belle came into his life.  

He didn’t have to, he thought wildly.  He could get in his car right now and drive to the library.  He’d climb the stairs to Belle’s new apartment and beg her forgiveness through the door.  He’d tell her that he didn’t mean it.  He’d tell her that it was one of his tasteless jokes that he’d taken too far or temporary insanity or demonic possession, and she would take pity on him.  She would open the door and take him in her arms, and they could be happy again.

The breath wheezed in his chest, his ribs throbbing, and it was all Gold could do to stay on his feet.  With desperate fingers, he loosened his tie as he struggled to catch his breath, cold sweat soaking his body.  He closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he waited for the spasm to pass.  

Eventually, his heart unclenched and he could fill his lungs again.  For a moment, he considered retrieving the bag of medication that was sitting ignored in the Cadillac’s truck or calling Whale, but he dismissed the idea.  The doctor couldn’t cure him, and there was no point in trying to mitigate his symptoms.  He deserved to suffer for what he’d done to Belle.  All he’d ever wanted was to make her happy, and now he was hurting her.

On shaking legs, he made his way up the stairs to the bedroom that wasn’t theirs any more.  He was falling apart, and that reminded him why all of this was necessary.  Belle might be hurting now, but he was sparing her from worse pain to come.  She didn’t need to see him like this.

Painful as it had been to step into the foyer with no Belle to meet him, nothing compared to the sheer horror of seeing the bedroom shorn of her presence.  

"No,” he whimpered as he caught himself on the door frame.  The nightstand was sickeningly empty without her books piled on it.  The dresser taunted him with its bareness now that her brush and jewelry were gone.  

Everything was just as it had been six months ago, and the sight nearly brought him to his knees.  Belle was _gone_.  Worse, it was like she’d never been here at all, the months of blissful joy they’d shared nothing but a dream.  

Gold doubled over with a gasping cry.  This was _wrong_.  This was _their_ bedroom.  That was _their_ bed.  They’d spent endless nights wrapped up in each other, Belle responding to his kisses and caresses with flattering pleasure.  He’d never been able to get enough of her, and somehow she’d seemed to feel the same way about him.  

They’d made love for the first time on this bed, and the memory of it tortured him, so vivid that he could almost feel the warmth of her pressed against him.  He’d been so nervous that first time, so terrified that he wouldn’t be able to please her, that he would hurt her or disgust her.  To his amazement, Belle had responded to his clumsy touches with joy, and he could picture the wonder in her eyes as he made them one so clearly that it brought tears to his eyes.

He’d cried that first night, and she’d held him so tenderly that it never occurred to him to be embarrassed.  Now, there was no one to kiss away his tears.

He was so exhausted that he could barely stand, but Gold couldn’t bring himself to step any closer to the bed.  It was neatly made, the covers smoothed into place by Belle’s hands, and he couldn’t disturb them.  The sheets might still retain a trace of her scent, and if he touched them, that scent would fade away, leaving him truly alone in the bed that should be theirs.

Desperately, Gold looked away, and a flash of white tucked behind the dresser caught his attention.  Bracing himself on his cane, he leaned down to pick up the mysterious object, realizing too late what it was.

“Oh God…” he murmured as his fingers clenched around the pearl necklace.  He’d given this to Belle on their one month anniversary.  As she was dressing for dinner, he’d snuck up behind her to clasp the necklace around her throat, the luster of the pearls calling attention to the elegant line of her neck and the creaminess of her skin.  He’d traced every pearl with his lips, the contrast between the cool pearls and her warm skin driving him wild.  Later that night, she’d joined him in bed wearing only those pearls, and the memory of that glorious night nearly drove him mad every time she wore the necklace.

Belle had worn it often, her secretive smile telling him that she knew _exactly_ what the sight of it did to him.

“Belle,” he rasped as he lifted the necklace to his lips.  Had she forgotten it or left it behind deliberately?  Gold wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.

It wasn’t _fair_.   _None_ of this was fair.  For the first time in his life, he was happy, and the universe had smashed all of his hopes and dreams to pieces.  Worse, it had forced him to break Belle’s heart, and that was unforgivable.  

With an inarticulate howl, Gold flung the necklace at the far wall and turned to flee.  He couldn’t stay here in this room where she was supposed to be.  He couldn’t sleep alone in their bed.  He _wouldn’t._

Tonight, he would sleep in his office where there were fewer ghosts.  Tomorrow,  he would make plans to leave Storybrooke.  For Belle’s sake he had to— there was no way to keep a secret of this magnitude in a small town.  

As Gold locked himself in his office, he tried to ignore the little voice in his head that whispered that he was running away.  


	7. Chapter 7

Belle drew her knees up to her chest, her copy of _Tam Lin_ abandoned at her side.  One of the things she’d always liked about this apartment was the cozy window seat that seemed perfect for reading, but now that she was putting it to the test, she couldn’t concentrate on a single word.

She pressed her face against the window and canted her neck so far to the side that it was nearly painful.  At this angle, she could just see the pawnshop, its windows dark.  Ciaran had gone home for the day.

Her breath caught in her chest as she buried her face against her knees, the memory of his voice running on a continuous loop in her mind— _I don’t love you any more.  I don’t love you any more.  I don’t love you any more._

“You’re lying,” she breathed, wishing that she could believe herself.  She _knew_ Ciaran.  After three years as his caretaker and friend and six months as his beloved, Belle was willing to swear that she knew Ciaran Gold better than any other human being alive.  She understood how his mind worked and recognized all of the little tells that indicated when he was dissembling.  She hadn’t seen a single one of those tells when he was saying those damning words.  

He wasn’t lying when he said he no longer loved her, and Belle had no idea how she was going to live with that.  The last six months had been the happiest of her life, and until today, she would have sworn that Ciaran felt the same way.  Had she just been deluding herself?  

Belle slumped back and closed her eyes as she allowed herself to relive the best day of her life.  

_As far as Belle was concerned, playing chess with Mr. Gold was a perk of her job.  Every evening after dinner they retired to the living room to contemplate each other across the chess board, and this time together was Belle’s favorite part of the day._

_When he asked if she knew how to play chess, she’d expected him to be a ruthless competitor, but Mr. Gold had proven her wrong.  He played well but with no sense of urgency.  He gave as much attention to their meandering conversations as he did to the game itself, not seeming to particularly care whether he won or lost.  It was the game he enjoyed, not the victory, as he proved more than once when he failed to take advantage of a mistake she made, forgoing an easy win in favor of making the game more competitive._

_Belle made a move and leaned back in her chair, studying Mr. Gold as he contemplated the next step of his strategy.  She loved seeing him like this.  The rest of Storybrooke saw only the buttoned-up landlord, but she got to see the man who lay beneath that mask._

_The first time he removed his jacket in her presence she’d been as shocked as if he’d suddenly stripped naked.  Now, it seemed perfectly natural to see him like this— in his shirtsleeves, his tie gone and the first button of his shirt undone.  He’d removed his shoes after dinner, and if she ducked her head beneath the table, she’d see his feet clad in the striped cashmere socks that she washed for him.  His hair was softly tousled, his dark eyes liquid in the glow of lamplight.  There was something painfully endearing about the set of his mouth as he gazed at the board.  That was his ‘thinking’ expression, and it was one of her personal favorites._

_He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and she loved him so much that it hurt._

_When she accepted the deal to become his caretaker, the last thing Belle had expected was to fall in love with her employer.  Everyone in Storybrooke knew that Mr. Gold was cold and cruel and that he delighted in ruining people’s lives.  She’d expected to find herself working for a monster._

_Instead, she’d met a lonely man with an offbeat sense of humor who listened–really listened–when she spoke.  The only terrifying thing about him was his keen intellect.  Mr. Gold knew_ everything _, but he seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts and opinions.  It took Belle less than a week to decide that Mr. Gold wasn’t a monster at all.  In less than a month, she had decided that he was her favorite person in the world._

_Shortly thereafter, she’d realized just how handsome he was, and Belle had been lost._

_She realized belatedly that she’d been staring when Mr. Gold looked up from the chess board, a small smile playing at his lips.  "You’re looking at me.“_

_"You’re nice to look at.”  She could say those words with impunity, knowing that he would assume she was teasing him._

_Mr. Gold snorted at the compliment, but instead of brushing off her words, he pulled a ridiculous face, startling a laugh out of Belle.  Despite his wit, he rarely allowed himself to be silly, and she treasured those moments when he let his guard down completely._

_“God, I love you,” she said fondly, freezing when she realized she’d spoken the words aloud._

_Mr. Gold’s eyes went wide, all the humor draining from his expression.  "You… I…_ What _did you say?“_

_Belle pushed her chair back from the table, hoping that the physical distance would give her space to think.  How could she be so_ stupid _?  Mr. Gold liked her well enough, but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe he could ever love her.  Knowing how she felt about him would only make things uncomfortable between them, and the friendship they had was too precious to her to lose._

_"I…” She groped for a way to play off her heedless words, feeling the weight of his gaze on her._

_She looked up, and her heart nearly stopped at the look on his face.  Mr. Gold was flushed, his lips trembling, and there was something in his eyes that she’d never seen before— hope._

_“I love you,” she repeated, praying that she was reading him correctly.  Far from looking appalled at her unwanted advance, Mr. Gold looked like his very life depended on her words._

_“Belle,” he choked, and she gasped as he lunged forward, knocking half the chess pieces heedlessly to the floor as he all but fell at her feet.  Trembling hands clasped the backs of her calves as he looked up at her in mute appeal, his chest heaving.  "Belle.“_

_Belle framed his face with her hands, feeling the hectic warmth of his skin.  "I love you.”_

_She laughed breathlessly, her eyes filling with tears.  Mr. Gold— Ciaran— wasn’t saying anything, but he didn’t need to.  The look on his face said it all.  He loved her too, and how had she been so blind for so long not to notice?_

_“Belle… sweetheart… my darling… I can’t believe…. Years, Belle…. for_ years _…”  He was practically babbling, but the inarticulate words were all Belle had ever wanted to hear, and she understood him perfectly._

_“Me too.  For years.”  They’d wasted so much time._

_“Oh, Belle…”  He leaned up as she bent her head, and suddenly they were kissing, the action as natural as breathing.  His lips were warm and firm as they caught her bottom lip, allowing him to draw it gently into his mouth and suckle, the sensation turning her bones to taffy.  Belle delved her fingers into his hair, loving the way the silky strands curled around her fingers, as Ciaran’s thumbs caressed the backs of her knees, a spot she’d never known was sensitive.  There was none of the awkwardness that usually accompanied a first kiss.  Instead, Ciaran kissed her like they’d been lovers for years, and in a way, they had been.  It had just taken them until today to realize it._

_When they broke apart, he gazed up at her, his face alight with wonder.  "I love you,“ he breathed, and she could see tears in his eyes._

How could it have all gone so wrong?  Had he only been humoring her this whole time?  Ciaran was a generous man.  When she told him she loved him, maybe he’d decided to try and give her what she wanted even though he didn’t feel the same way.  Was that it?  Maybe he’d just been too kind-hearted to reject her, living a lie until today when he finally got tired of pretending.

Belle dug the heels of her hands into her burning eyes.  She couldn’t accept that explanation.  Ciaran wouldn’t be so cruel as to lead her on.  If he didn’t return her feelings, he would have let her down easy.  No, he’d loved her that day.  

If he loved her that day, then somewhere along the line he must have fallen _out_ of love with her.  Had she done something wrong or had he just grown tired of her?  He was worldly and sophisticated while all of her life experience came from the books she read.  Was that it?  Had he gotten bored with her?

The thought of him hiding his yawns as she prattled on made her nauseous.  He’d loved to rest his head in her lap while she talked to him.  Those memories were some of the most precious moments of their relationship.  Ciaran was the first person who _ever_ cared about her thoughts and ideas.  The idea that he’d been bored the entire time…

It was too awful to contemplate.  There had to be another answer.  Maybe one of his clients had threatened her in an attempt to escape a deal made in haste only to be regretted later.  Maybe someone had given him doctored photographs showing that Belle was unfaithful to him.  Maybe his appointment with Dr. Whale had revealed some kind of dreadful medical condition.  

With a groan, Belle hauled herself off the window seat and went to run herself a bath, hoping the warm water would calm her racing mind.  She was spiraling into paranoia now.  If someone threatened her, Ciaran would have Dove guard her day and night, not cast her out.  Belle wouldn’t put doctoring pictures past Zelena Greene, who’d been obsessed with Ciaran for years, but he knew Belle well enough to know that she’d never stray.  And if Dr. Whale had diagnosed him with some terminal condition, Ciaran would hardly push her away when he would most need her comfort and care.

Belle shook her head at herself.  She could come up with a thousand reasons why Ciaran might have cast her aside, but there was no way to know which one was the truth.  Only one person could tell her that, and he wasn’t talking.

Dove was right when he suggested that she give Ciaran space.  Belle knew him well enough to know that he didn’t appreciate being badgered, and he _hated_ feeling cornered.  That was the only thing keeping her in this apartment instead of kicking down the door of the Victorian.  She would give him the space he wanted.  For now.

There was something here that she wasn’t seeing.  The explanation Ciaran gave her really hadn’t been an explanation at all.  Even if he was no longer satisfied with their romantic relationship, their connection went deeper than that, and it didn’t make sense that he would decide to throw their years of friendship away just because their romance went awry.  He wasn’t the sort of man who threw the baby out with the bathwater.

In a few days or a week after he’d had a chance to calm down, she would have her answers.  Belle wouldn’t allow him to throw her away so easily.  If nothing else, their three years of friendship deserved more than to end like this.

She _was_ going to get to the bottom of this.  Somehow.


	8. Chapter 8

“Ciaran, I don’t know what to say.  I’m so—”

“Don’t.”  Gold cut Midas off before the other man could say anything else.  He would have much preferred to tell no one about his medical condition, but in order for the lawyer to effectively do his job, Midas needed to know what was happening.  Fortunately, he knew he could trust the other man’s discretion.  

Dying involved a great deal of paperwork.  His last will and testament needed to be updated so that the transfer of his assets to Belle would be as painless as possible.  He needed to make sure that the notarized documents clarifying that he had very intentionally excluded his father and ex-wife from his will were still in order.  Gold knew those two vultures too well.  Once they got wind of his death, they’d be after the estate, and Belle shouldn’t have to deal with such things.  

He needed a living will in place so that no doctor would get heroic ideas about trying to prolong his useless life, and Midas needed to be granted power of attorney so the lawyer could speak for him should Gold be incapacitated by his illness prior to his death.  The other man seemed less than sanguine about accepting that responsibility, but that was nothing compared to his reaction when Gold asked him to put together a severance package for Belle.

“Ciaran, have you lost your mind?” Midas demanded.  "If you’re sick, you’re going to need care.  Why the _hell_ are you firing your caretaker?“

"That’s of no importance,” he dismissed.  There were certain things that Midas didn’t need to know.

On the other end of the line there was silence.  Then… “She doesn’t know.  Does she?”

Midas knew him too well.  On the other hand, Gold knew the lawyer’s penchant for well-intentioned meddling just as well.  "No.  And if she finds out from you, I’ll make damned sure you end up disbarred.“

"Don’t threaten me, you bastard.”  There was no heat in Midas’s voice.  "So, what’s your plan?  You’re going to drag yourself out into the woods to die like a dog?“

"Nothing so primitive.”  He’d found a small cottage in upstate New York that was fully handicap accessible and close to a well regarded home healthcare provider.  It was a convenient location in which to waste away far from anyone who knew or cared about him.

“You’re a fool.  She won’t thank you for this.”

Midas was probably right.  Belle didn’t like it when other people made decisions for her.  No doubt, she would curse his name when she found out what he’d done.  However, that changed nothing.  If she loathed him, so be it.  It was better than dragging her down with him.  

“I know.”

After a moment’s silence, Midas sighed.  "What else?“

If anything, the lawyer was even more unhappy about the idea of arranging for Belle to receive a windfall inheritance from a distant relative than he was about the severance package, but Midas didn’t argue, and with that final piece of the puzzle in place, Gold’s affairs were officially in order.

After he hung up the phone, Gold ran down the list he’d made during the sleepless night he’d spent on his office couch.  Earlier, he’d chosen the house that he would die in, and the fact that it was a rental property made life easier.  It was ironic that he would spend the last months of his life in a rented cottage after decades of playing landlord to all of Storybrooke.  He moved in at the end of the month.

Deciding what to do with the Victorian had been a struggle.  The wise thing to do would be to sell it and all of its contents so Belle didn’t have to deal with liquidating the household after his death.  Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do any such thing.  This was the home they’d shared, and Gold couldn’t bear to change a single thing.  Perhaps Belle would want to live in it someday after she’d forgiven him for misleading her.  The idea was a comfort.  If she did that, he would remain part of her life even after he was gone.

There was only one last loose end— the Paris trip.

He could easily have asked Midas to cancel the arrangements, but a masochistic part of Gold insisted on doing it himself.  He and Belle had spent hours researching hotels and planning an itinerary.  She wanted to see _everything_ , and he wanted to see everything through her eyes.  It was supposed to be the first of many adventures they shared, and now it was slipping through his fingers.

He didn’t actually need to cancel anything.  Instead, he could make the trip part of her severance package and enjoy knowing that she was having an adventure even though he couldn’t be part of it.  She could take her father or Ruby or Merida or that good-looking young man from the diner.

A better man would have done just that, but Gold had no illusions about himself.  At heart, he was a selfish beast.  It was taking all the strength he had to let Belle go.  He couldn’t bear to know that while his life was slowly falling apart at the seams, Belle was exploring Paris and doing all of the things they’d imagined doing together with someone else.  

As if watching from outside his body, Gold saw his hand open his desk drawer and reach for the velvet box he’d secreted in the back corner.  With shaking fingers, he flipped it open, his breath catching at the sight of the ring inside, its square center diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller stones in a scalloped setting of rose gold.  The ring was perfect for Belle, and he’d spent years dreaming of the moment he would slip it onto her finger.  He’d almost managed it.

The exact scenario changed every time he thought about it.  Sometimes he envisioned them walking along the Seine at sunset.  Other times, he saw them exploring the grounds of the Musée Rodin or the Luxembourg Gardens.  The location wasn’t important.  What mattered was that they were together in a beautiful place that would be made even more beautiful when he saw the look of wonder on Belle’s face as he got down on one knee before her.

"Sweetheart…” Gold breathed as he closed his eyes to picture the scene in exact detail.  Belle’s eyes would widen at his action, her lips parting softly as her breath picked up its pace.

With his bad leg, kneeling before her would be an awkward process, but Belle wouldn’t laugh at his halting movements.  He could almost see her hand lifting to steady him, offering him her support even if she didn’t yet understand what he was planning to do.

He would capture her hands in both of his and look up at her in mute supplication as the light of the sun turned her chestnut hair into a halo of fire.  Belle was his angel, the source of everything in his life that was good, and even if he didn’t deserve her, he could never let her go.

“I think I’ve loved you every day of my life,” he would tell her, his accent thick with emotion as he tried not to cry.  "Even before we met, I was waiting for you to bring me to life.  I didn’t know how cold and colorless my world was until the day I met you.  When you moved in, you brought light and joy with you, and the day you told me you loved me was the happiest day of my life.  Now I’m asking you to make today even better.  I love you more than words could ever say, and I will spend the rest of my life doing everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me.  Will you marry me, Belle?“

Gold could almost feel her fingers tightening around his as Belle started to cry, her brilliant smile assuaging all of his fears.  ” _Yes_!“ she would gasp, and that word would set his own tears free, the pair of them laughing and crying in wonder that they were going to join their lives together.

"I love you, Ciaran.  I don’t know how it happened or why, but I love you.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”  She would take his face in her hands and lean down to kiss him, and he would be so overwhelmed with love and joy that he nearly forgot to give her the ring.

Even after Belle helped him regain his feet, they would be unable to stop touching each other, needing the contact to remind them that this was no dream.  They were going to be married and live happily ever after, and everything was _perfect_.

Gold could picture the scene so clearly that it was a painful jolt to open his eyes and find himself alone in his office, the diamond ring in his hand instead of on Belle’s finger.  The fantasy was all he would ever have.   There would be no trip to Paris, no engagement, no happily ever after.  He would never see Belle wear his ring or hear her promise herself to him forever.  All that his future held now was a lonely death.

With a muttered curse, he snapped the ring box’s lid shut and shoved it to the very back of his desk drawer, unable to look at it for another moment.  It was over.  The sooner he accepted that, the more peaceful his final days would be.

He took a deep breath and picked up the phone.  There were reservations to cancel.


	9. Chapter 9

Gold breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to slip into the shop without running into Belle.  He’d opted to start his workday a full hour earlier than normal, and he’d bypassed the front door entirely, just in case.  What other people might call paranoia, he considered reasonable caution.  When Belle set her mind to something, she was unstoppable, and right now, she had her mind set on talking to him.

She’d called seven times in the past three days, and last night she’d spent fifteen minutes knocking and trying every one of the Victorian’s doors.  If he hadn’t had the foresight to have the locks changed, he would have had no way of avoiding her, and that would have spelled disaster.

Gold was very aware of his own limitations.  He’d had the strength to send Belle away once, but if she forced a confrontation, he would never be able to do it again.  Looking her in the eye and lying that he no longer loved her had nearly broken him.  There was no way he could say those awful words twice.  If she demanded answers, he would end up telling her the truth, and they’d be right in the middle of the situation he’d worked so hard to avoid.  

To keep the house of cards in place, he was skulking through Storybrooke like an escaped convict and counting down the days until he was able to retreat to his rented cottage in upstate New York.  If he was smart, he’d check into a hotel in the meantime, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do so.  There was comfort in being in the home he’d shared with Belle, just as there was comfort in knowing she was less than two miles away.  Even if he couldn’t see her, she was close by.

Once he left Storybrooke, it was over.  He was going to New York to die, and he’d never lay eyes on Belle again.  He would never again hear her voice or feel her touch.  Leaving Storybrooke would make his impending death _real_ , and Gold was terrified.

He’d always been a coward.

His heart stuttered at the sound of the front door being unlocked, and he strained his ears, relieved to hear only Dove’s heavy tread.  Gold emerged from the back room like a mole poking its nose out of its burrow, stepping through the curtain only once he was certain Belle was nowhere in sight.

Dove started at the sight of him, but recovered quickly.  "Good morning, sir.“

"Good morning, Dove.  I’ve a great deal of work to do in the back, so I’ll leave you to run things today.”  He waited for the big man to nod in acknowledgement of the instruction before continuing as if the thought had only just occurred to him, “Oh, and if Belle should drop by, tell her I’m not here.”

A frown crossed Dove’s face, followed immediately by a calculating expression.  Gold, familiar with his empolyee’s habit of rebelling by following the letter of a directive instead of the spirit, clarified, “I do not wish to see her, speak to her, or hear her speak to me.  You will make sure none of those things happen.”

From the mutinous set of Dove’s mouth, he’d been smart to close those potential loopholes, but his employee didn’t argue.  "Yes, sir.“

Gold retreated to the back, satisfied that he’d made his point, but even with Dove as a reluctant guard dog, he was too exposed here in the shop.  Belle’s apartment was only a block away, and if he continued to avoid and ignore her, she was certain to lose patience and try to force his hand.

Right now, she was probably sitting in her apartment and teaching herself how to pick locks.  The whimsical idea made him chuckle as he reclaimed his seat at the work table, and Gold smiled fondly into the distance as he pictured the look of intent concentration on her face as she struggled to master the new skill.  The tip of her pink tongue would just poke out between her lips, and it would be all he could do not to chase it with his own.

The sound of the bell jingling snapped him out of his fantasy, and he doubled over, barely able to breathe around the crushing pain in his chest.  He would never see that look on Belle’s face again.  He would never again tease her about the offbeat knowledge she acquired from her reading or have the exquisite pleasure of feeling her soft lips pressed against his.

"Good morning, Miss French.”  

On the other side of the curtain, Dove’s voice was a low rumble, and Gold froze.  Belle was here in the shop, only feet away from him, and terror warred with the rush of delight he felt every time he was near her.  The only thing in the world he wanted to do was step through the curtain, take her in his arms, and beg for her forgiveness, but to do that would only set her up for more pain to come, pain that he could spare her by being strong.  He had to be cruel to be kind.

Gold could feel his heart pounding erratically in his chest as he listened to Belle and Dove exchange pleasantries.  This was torture.

“Ciaran?  We need to talk.”

It was like being stabbed with a red-hot lance.  Gold hunched in on himself, curling around the agony in his chest as he sought to disappear.  He couldn’t do this.  He couldn’t face her.

“I regret to inform you that Mr. Gold is not here.”  Dove’s voice was oddly toneless.

Gold could practically _hear_ Belle’s eyebrows arching in disbelief.  "Oh, he isn’t?“

Nausea curdled in his gut as he realized Belle wouldn’t be put off so easily.  He breathed shallowly, trying not to let a whimper escape his lips as cold sweat beaded on his face.  Desperately, he willed her to give up and go away even as his traitorous heart pleaded with her to storm back here and announce that she was never letting him out of her sight again.  Death would be bearable if he had Belle at his side.

"I know you’re here, Ciaran.   _Please_ talk to me.”  He could barely hear her over the roaring in his ears.

“Miss French, I must ask you to leave.”

There was the sound of movement from the front of the shop, followed by Belle’s outraged voice.  " _Dove_!“

"I’m _sorry_ , Miss French.”  The big man sounded miserable.  "I have my instructions.“

For a moment, all was quiet, then Belle laughed a little, the sound broken.  "I understand.  It’s not your fault.”

He was clenching his teeth so hard that the left side of his jaw throbbed, but Gold couldn’t seem to stop.  Sweat was dripping down his face, and that assured him that he was doing the right thing.  Just hearing her voice was destroying him.  If he had to face her…

“I’m sure you have a lot of work to do, Dove.  You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m leaving.”  Although she was ostensibly speaking to Dove, it was clear that the words were aimed at him.  Belle’s voice was heavy with bitterness, and she should never sound like that.  This was all his fault.  

“Tell Mr. Gold that when he’s ready to stop being a coward to let me know.”  She paused like she was waiting for him to respond, but Gold’s throat was so constricted that he couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to.

“You bastard…” The words were as softly spoken as they were damning, and Gold wasn’t sure if he’d been meant to hear them or not.  

_I’m sorry_ , he mouthed, not daring to say it out loud. _I love you. I’m doing this for you.  
_

The ring of the bell heralded her exit, leaving him alone with his misery once more.

He expected to feel relief once Belle left the shop, but the crushing pain in his chest refused to abate.  He couldn’t breathe, and when Dove stalked into the back room, his eyes didn’t seem to want to focus on the big man.

“I am _not_ comfortable lying to Miss French,” Dove announced in a tone that came as close to seething as Gold had ever heard from him.  "In the future, I would appreciate—"

Gold wobbled in his chair as the roaring in his ears increased.  It sounded like the ocean, and he certainly felt like he was on the sea.  The floor swayed under him like the planks of a ship, and maybe that was why he felt so nauseous.  He’d always been prone to seasickness.  

Wait.  When did he get on a boat?

“Sir?  Sir!”

Suddenly, Dove was shouting in his ear, nearly deafening him, and Gold wrested his eyes open to glare at the big man, finding him on the other side of the room.  Dove’s mouth was moving, but he couldn’t hear the words.

Oh hell.  It wasn’t just misery that was clenching his heart in a vice.

It was too soon, Gold thought wildly as his ribcage constricted, seeking to crush his heart and lungs.  There were no secrets in Storybrooke.  If he wound up in the hospital, there was no way Belle wouldn’t find out about it, and all of his efforts to shield her from the truth would be for naught.

The world spun around him, and when his vision cleared, Gold realized that Dove had picked him up like a child.  "It’s all right, sir.  Just breathe.“

"Belle…” Gold rasped, struggling to speak when he couldn’t get any air in his lungs.   _Belle can’t know_ , he tried to say, the words sticking in his throat.  

“Don’t try to talk, sir.  I understand.”

Did he?  Did he understand how critical it was to make sure that not a whisper of this reached her ears?  

The world was jumping around so wildly that it was a relief when his vision started to gray out.   _This is an order— don’t tell Belle._  Gold was still trying to shape those words when everything went black.

“…Belle…”


	10. Chapter 10

Fuming, Belle paced the small library apartment as she mentally replayed the confrontation at the pawnshop.  She’d lived with Ciaran Gold for three and a half years, and in that time, he’d occasionally annoyed and infuriated her, but she’d never been as enraged with him as she was at this moment.  The way he was stonewalling her was one thing, but to involve Dove in the issues between them was unconscionable.  

Her stomach twisted with humiliation at the memory of Dove’s attempt to physically escort her from the shop.  The big man had been mortified at being forced to take such an action, and she…

She had been out of line.

Belle took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she forced herself to admit to her own bad behavior.  She couldn’t pin all of this morning’s debacle on Ciaran, no matter how much she would like to.  He had been _very_ clear that he didn’t wish to speak to her.  Hell, the man had even changed the house’s locks to make sure she couldn’t get in.  None of that had stopped her from trying to force his hand.

Facing away from the shop, she curled up on the window seat, hoping that by physically distancing herself from Ciaran, she could begin to untangle her emotions.  For the past week and a half, she’d been desperate to talk to him, but maybe there really wasn’t anything to say.  She wanted answers, but maybe she already had them.  Was it just denial that had prompted her to believe that there was some mystery here that needed to be uncovered?

They’d been friends.  Then they became lovers.  And it didn’t work out.

Maybe it really was that simple.  She was head-over-heels in love with Ciaran, but he didn’t feel the same way about her.  He’d been infatuated, but once the first bloom of romance wore off, he’d realized they didn’t work as a couple and ended it.  It was sudden, yes, and he’d been cold, but cold wasn’t the same as cruel, and maybe that was his way of being kind.  It was like ripping off a bandage.  Prolonging things and giving her false hope would only have made things worse.

If that was the case, it was no wonder he’d terminated her employment at the same time he ended their relationship.  Having her underfoot around the house would be awkward at best since she’d proven that she couldn’t accept the breakup gracefully.  It might have even been for the best.  Belle couldn’t imagine living in Ciaran’s house and being nothing more than his caretaker when, for a time, she’d been his everything.  She needed space and distance to get over her heartbreak, and she wouldn’t have that if she was still living under his roof.

The problem was that there was nowhere in Storybrooke for her to go that would make it any easier for her to forget.  Right now, she was staying in an apartment that Ciaran owned.  If she looked out the window, she could see his shop.  If she looked in the other direction, she could see the diner where they’d shared so many meals.  They’d walked every inch of these streets together, eaten at every restaurant, explored every shop.  No matter where she turned, she was surrounded by the ghosts of their past, memories of happier times assailing her.  For three and a half years, she and Ciaran had been inseparable, and now she was on her own.

She needed to get away.  To be here in this town where everything reminded her of him was torture.  The severance package that Ciaran— that _Mr. Gold_ gave her was generous enough that she could take her time in finding a new job, and with the inheritance she’d unexpectedly received from Uncle Elmer’s passing, she had enough in her bank account that travel was a possibility.  She’d dreamed of Paris with Ciaran, but since that was out of the question, a week in London or Bali might do wonders for her.  Her life was so entangled with his that she barely knew where he ended and she began.  She needed to start untangling those threads, and she couldn’t do that in Storybrooke.  If nothing else, travel would be a distraction from her broken heart.

How was she supposed to live without him?

When her phone rang, she was tempted to ignore it.  The only person in the world she wanted to talk to right now didn’t want to talk to her.  Out of everything, that was what hurt the most.  She’d lost her best friend.  

Belle picked up her phone to see Dove’s picture and winced.  If she knew Dove, he was calling to apologize for the events of this morning, but it was her that owed him the apology.  She’d dragged him into the middle of this mess as much as Ciaran had, and that was a lousy thing to do to someone she considered a friend.

“Hey, Dove.”  Despite her best efforts, her voice was thick and shaky.

Before he could say anything, she rushed to apologize, needing to get the words out before she started crying.  "I’m really sorry about earlier.  I didn’t mean to—"

“Mr. Gold is in the hospital.”

It was so unlike Dove to interrupt that it took her a second to get past her surprise to process what he’d said.  Even then, her mind didn’t want to comprehend the words.  Ciaran?  In the hospital?  "What?“

Dove’s voice was gentle.  "He collapsed shortly after you left.  I suspect that he suffered a heart attack.”

Belle’s own heart was threatening to beat its way out of her chest, her breath quick and erratic.  "Oh my God…“

This couldn’t be happening, she thought wildly.  Ciaran Gold was a force of nature; he couldn’t just have a heart attack like a mere mortal.  He couldn't… couldn't…

She couldn’t even think the word.

"He’s in the emergency room, and the doctors are with him.  I don’t know anything else.”  Dove sounded apologetic about it.  

“Dove… oh _God_ , Dove…”  Belle felt as though she’d been struck by lightning, her brain too scrambled to say anything coherent.  Her teeth were chattering, her body shaking so hard that she could barely hold the phone.  

Ciaran could be fighting for his life right now, and Belle was powerless.  Worse, she didn’t even have the right to be at his side.  As his friend and lover, she could have offered him emotional support.  As his caretaker, she could have cared for his needs.  Now, she was none of those things, and there was nothing she could do.

“He asked for you.”  

Dove’s words broke through her panic like he’d thrown her a rope while she was drowning, and Belle grabbed it with both hands.  "He did?“  

It wasn’t much hope, but it was better than nothing.  She might not mean anything to Ciaran any more, but if he wanted her with him, nothing would tear her from his side.  Whatever he needed, she would give him.  She would nurse him back to health, and even if he cast her out again as soon as he was well, she would be nothing but grateful for the chance to help him.  

Belle refused to imagine any scenario that didn’t end in Ciaran getting well.  He was far too stubborn to let a mere heart attack stop him.  With her to care for him, he’d be back on his feet in no time, and even if he didn’t love her, maybe they could figure out how to be friends again.

"He called for you as I was taking him to the hospital.  I’m sure you’re very angry with him, Miss French, and I don’t blame you, but he needs you right now.  Will you come?”

Dove must be as out of his mind with worry as she was if he felt the need to ask such a ridiculous question.  Would she come?  There was no power on Earth that could keep her away.  If Ciaran needed her, nothing else mattered.  

“I’m on my way.”  

Without even bothering to put on shoes, Belle grabbed her purse and ran for the door.  She was halfway down the street before she realized she hadn’t locked up behind herself, but that didn’t matter.  Let someone rob her blind.  They could steal everything she owned, and she wouldn’t bat an eye as long as Ciaran lived.

Gravel and glass bit into the soles of her bare feet as she ran, the sidewalk cold under her on this autumn afternoon.  People turned to stare as she flew by them, her hair streaming behind her as her heels pounded into the pavement, sending pains shooting through her shins.  Belle didn’t notice the stares or the discomfort.  Her heart and mind were already at the hospital, focused on the man who’d called for her.

_I’m coming, Ciaran_ , she vowed with every jarring step.   _I’m coming.  Just hold on._

_Hold on._


	11. Chapter 11

By the time Belle burst through the doors of Storybrooke’s emergency room, she was sobbing, terror clawing at her as she dreaded what she might find upon her arrival.  Desperately, she hoped she would be greeted by the sight of Ciaran sitting up and being irascible with the nurses, but her mind kept suggesting other possibilities, each more horrific than the last.

Her sudden appearance startled several medical personnel, who immediately swarmed her, but Dove appeared a moment later to scatter them.  "Oh, Miss French, your poor feet,“ he murmured as he picked her up bodily to carry her to another section of the waiting area.  

Puzzled, Belle looked down to see bloody footprints, and it took her a moment to realize that they must belong to her.  "They don’t hurt.”

“They will before long.  We’ll get you taken care of.”

“Dove, please…” she begged.  "Where’s Ciaran?  How is he?“

"Dr. Whale is with him.  I don’t know anything else.”  Dove lowered her carefully into a molded plastic chair and crouched in front of her to examine her feet with critical eyes.  "I will be right back.“

When he stepped away, Belle buried her face in her hands, her fingers tugging at her hair.  It was like being in a nightmare.  Ciaran was here somewhere, and he needed her, and no one seemed to be doing anything about it.  

A moment later, Dove appeared with a nurse carrying a basin of water and some supplies.  As Dove took a seat beside her, the young man knelt down to clean the debris out of Belle’s soles.  "Nothing serious, just some shallow punctures,” he diagnosed.

Belle did her best to give him a grateful smile, but her bloody feet were the least of her worries.  Turning to her companion, she pleaded, “Tell me what happened.”

“After you let the shop, I stepped into the back to speak with Mr. Gold.  When I did, I noticed that he looked unwell— pale, perspiring, breathing erratically.”

Belle whimpered as her mind conjured up the picture.  While she was in the front snarling at him, Ciaran had been suffering in the back.  If he didn’t survive this, the last words he heard from her were her calling him a bastard.  

“Oh God,” she whimpered, the anguish that flooded her threatening to rip her own heart to pieces.

Dove wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders as he continued.  "He didn’t respond when I spoke to him, and I noticed he was clutching his chest.  I called the hospital to tell them we were on our way and carried Mr. Gold to the car.  As I did, he called your name twice before losing consciousness.“

Belle’s throat felt so tight that she could barely breathe.  Even after her unkind words, Ciaran’s last thoughts were of her.  Somehow, she would make this up to him.  Nothing else that had happened between them mattered.  Their breakup, which had been the source of so much anguish, was nothing more than petty foolishness.  Who cared if Ciaran loved her or not when he might be dying?  What difference did it make?  

All that mattered was that he lived.  If he never spoke to her again, Belle would consider that a small price to pay as long as she knew he was happy and well.  

He _had_ to live.

The nurse finished disinfecting her feet and wrapped them in soft bandages before covering everything with slippers made of paper and elastic.  Task complete, he slipped away to leave her and Dove to sit in silence, Belle clinging to the big man like he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the planet.  

After what could have been minutes or hours, Dr. Whale appeared in the narrow hallway.  "Hey, Belle.  Dove.”

She’d known Victor Whale in passing for years, but right now, Belle didn’t see the pleasant man she occasionally discussed books with when they ran into each other at the diner.  She was looking into the face of New England’s top cardiologist, the man who would either give her hope or destroy her life.

“Well?” she rasped, beyond pleasantries.  

Whale claimed the seat on her other side and clasped his hands between his knees.  "It could have been much worse.  Obviously, considering his condition, this is the last thing we wanted to happen, but as cardiac episodes go, it was fairly minor.  I do have some questions though.“

Belle was so busy clinging to ‘fairly minor’ and 'could have been much worse’ that it took her a moment to register 'considering his condition.’  His condition?  What condition?

Before she could ask, Whale was quizzing her.  "He’s quite dehydrated.  Have you noticed that he’s drinking less?  How much water would you say he drinks on a daily basis?“

"He never drinks much water.  He mostly drinks tea— hot or iced.”  She answered the second question automatically, her mind spinning like a child’s top.  She was missing something, and it was something important.

Dove came to her rescue with the first half of Whale’s question.  "At the shop, making tea is one of my duties.  For the past several weeks, Mr. Gold has been drinking less than he usually does.  I didn’t realize it was important.“

From the look on his face, he was nettled about this failure of observation.

"Well, it’s certainly not a _bad_ thing if he’s trying to cut back on caffeine, but it sounds like he wasn’t making up the difference anywhere else.  You’ll both have to keep an eye on that,” Whale informed them, and Dove and Belle exchanged a look.  Was it possible Whale hadn’t heard about the breakup?

“We did a blood test, and I’m concerned about his levels because I’m not seeing any improvements.  Everything is where it was at his initial appointment.  He _is_ taking his medication, isn’t he?” Whale asked.

“Victor, _what_ is going on?” Belle burst out, unable to play along any longer.  "What condition?  What medication?  What’s _happening_?“

The doctor’s face paled as understanding dawned in his eyes.  "He didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me _what_?”  This was it; she was certain of it.  Their breakup came only days after Ciaran’s appointment with Whale, an appointment he’d assured her had been uneventful.  How had she not noticed he’d been lying to her?  How could she be so _stupid_ as to not put the pieces together to reveal the truth?

Something happened at that appointment, and Ciaran ended their relationship over it.  Now, Belle wanted answers.

Whale pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.  "Oh hell.  According to privacy law, I’m not allowed to tell you.  I just assumed you already knew since you two have been together forever.  I never imagined he wouldn’t tell you.“

She and Ciaran had only been together six months, and for the first time, Belle wondered if the majority of Storybrooke actually knew that.  Maybe the people who only knew them in passing assumed they’d been shacking up since the very beginning.

"He called for Miss French.  He wants her here,” Dove told the doctor.  "If you can’t speak freely in front of me, I’ll go.“

"We gave him something to help him rest, so I can’t ask him what he wants.”  Whale’s face brightened as an idea occurred to him.  "Hang on, let me go check his paperwork.  Most people list as least one family member as someone their doctor can speak with freely.  If he listed you, we’re fine.  I’ll be right back.“

Belle sagged back in her chair as her mind attacked the fragments Whale had given her, trying to assemble them into a coherent whole.  "Ciaran’s sick.  Whale diagnosed him with something at that appointment three weeks ago.”

Since Whale was a cardiologist, whatever was wrong with Ciaran clearly involved his heart, meaning that whatever happened today wasn’t an isolated incident.  Rather, it was a progression of a pre-existing condition that he’d chosen not to tell her about.

Dove’s jaw was tight as he pulled out his phone.  "I’m researching cardiac conditions.“

Belle dug her nails into her palms.   _Why_ wouldn’t he tell her?  If he was sick, why wouldn’t he want her help?  Was it simply denial, refusal to accept a new weakness?  If that was the case, she could imagine him choosing not to tell her, but that didn’t explain why he’d ended their relationship.  

She knew Ciaran Gold better than anyone on Earth.  She knew his strengths and weaknesses, his character flaws and the things that made him the most wonderful man in the world.  One of those character flaws was born out of a miserable childhood and first marriage: the tendency to push others away before he could experience the pain of rejection.

Horrible as the idea was, it fit.  If Ciaran thought she would reject him once she learned the truth, he would strike first.  He would rather shove her out of his life himself than give her the chance to walk away from him.  

A flare of anger flickered to life among the kindling of misery and fear.  Did he really think so little of her that he believed she would walk away from him when he needed her most?  Ciaran hated to show weakness, but with her, he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable.  Belle thought that meant he trusted her, but apparently she’d been wrong.  

Was that it?  Did he truly believe she was so shallow that she wouldn’t want him if he wasn’t perfect?  Did he really think she was that selfish?

It would have hurt less had she been the one to have the heart attack.

"There are too many possibilities.  We don’t have enough information.”  Dove sounded distressed as he put his phone back into his pocket.

“Why would he do this?  Why didn't he _tell_ me?” she whispered.  

The big man shook his head.  "I don’t know.  It doesn’t make sense.“

By the time Whale returned, Belle was ready to scream in frustration.  "We’re moving Mr. Gold to a private room on the cardiac floor.  I spoke with a Mr. Midas, who has medical power of attorney, and he told me not to speak with you— He was _very_ sorry about that— but he wanted to encourage you to stay with Mr. Gold.”

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Actually, he suggested that you handcuff yourself to his hospital bed until 'the fool comes to his senses’, but I’m not sure you have a pair of handcuffs with you.”  Whale managed a wan smile.  

That sounded _exactly_ like something Midas would say, and Belle let out a sharp bark of laughter that spoke more of hysteria than humor.  Once she started laughing, she couldn’t stop, doubling over as all the pain and rage and fear poured out of her in peals of laughter than sounded like sobs.

Dove rubbed her back with a soothing hand as tears ran down her face.  By the time she laughed herself out, her head was throbbing, and her throat ached.  Belle sagged back, feeling limp as a used dishrag.

Whale placed a box of tissues in her lap so she could clean herself up, and Belle could only imagine how insane she must appear— laughing while Ciaran was suffering.  "I’m sorry.“

"It’s normal,” the doctor assured her.  "You’ve had a hell of a shock.“

He waited until she pulled herself together before gesturing for her to stand.  "If you’d come with me?”

When Belle looked at Dove, the big man nodded.  "Text me if you need anything.“

After a short elevator ride to the sixth floor, Whale led the way down a sterile white hallway, and Belle trailed after him, her bandaged feet feeling like they were made of lead.  What was waiting for her in Ciaran’s room?

She swallowed a sob when she stepped through the doorway to find him asleep on the bed, his face pale and hair disheveled.  His hospital gown obscured the sensors attached to his chest, but it did nothing to hide the oxygen tube in his nose nor the IV line.  

He looked so small.

"He’s just asleep,” Whale assured her when she hesitated.  "I know how it looks.“

It looked like he was dying, and it took every bit of Belle’s strength not to break down in tears as she approached him.  How could this happen?  How could he not tell her?”

Whale pulled a chair closer to the bed, and she simply collapsed into it, reaching for the hand that didn’t have an IV in it.  Despite appearances, Ciaran’s skin was warm, and when she took his hand, his fingers clasped around hers.  That was a good sign, wasn’t it?  Whatever he had surely couldn’t be that terrible.

“If there’s nothing else I can do, I’ll leave you alone,” the doctor said quietly.  

Belle nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from Ciaran even to say goodbye.  Distantly, she heard the door close behind Whale as she lifted Ciaran’s hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to the back of his fingers.

She bowed her head over his hand and breathed in the scent of his skin, her breath catching in her throat.  "How could you?“ she whispered, not sure if he could hear her or not.  "Oh Ciaran, how _could_ you?”

Underneath the worry and fear, anger was boiling inside of her.  Ciaran _lied_ to her.  He’d looked her straight in the eye and lied through his teeth because he didn’t trust her to stay with him when things got hard.  Now that she knew how little faith he had in her, Belle wasn’t sure how they were going to get past that.

Well, if he thought she was going to abandon him just because he was sick, she was going to prove otherwise.  Like it or not, he was stuck with her now.  There would be no more lies and no more stonewalling.  When he woke up, they were going to have a _very_ serious conversation, and if he tried to push her away again, she’d damned well take Midas’s suggestion and handcuff herself to his bed.

Enough was enough.  Ciaran Gold was about to discover just how stubborn Belle French could be.


	12. Chapter 12

The feeling of gentle fingers carding through his hair sent shivers down his spine, Gold floating along on a current of warm contentment.  When he opened his eyes, Belle was leaning over him, her face only inches from his, and he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight to wake to than the face of his beloved.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” he rumbled.

One of her curls had slipped free from behind her ear to brush her cheek, and he reached up to push it off her face just for the pleasure of touching her hair.  As he did, a pulse of pain shot down his arm and into his chest, clearing the fog from his mind.

Belle wasn’t supposed to be here.

Gold let his hand drop and turned his face away from her, finding himself in a hospital bed.  That revelation brought everything rushing back— Belle’s attempt to waylay him in the shop and the crushing pain in his chest.  Dove had been there, he remembered, and he’d given the big man specific instructions to make sure Belle didn’t find out about this misadventure.  Clearly, Dove hadn’t done his job because here she was.

His secret was out.

Maybe this was a sign, Gold thought wildly.  He’d done everything he could think of to protect Belle from the pain of his impending death, and none of it had worked.  Maybe the universe was telling him that it was all right to keep her by his side as he faded away.  He could tell her the truth, and she’d care for him in his final months, and he could die in her arms.  Gold couldn’t imagine a better way to go.

He was a selfish bastard.  

“Get out,” he rasped, desperate to fix this.  Belle deserved better than to play nursemaid to him.

When he looked back at her, her face was thunderous.  "Excuse me?“

"Get out.  I don’t want you here.”  It wasn’t even a lie.  He _didn’t_ want Belle here in this hospital room with him.  He wanted both of them to be wandering the streets of Paris or cuddling together in their bed as they made plans for the future.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a future, and he refused to allow Belle to sacrifice hers.

“Tough,” she snapped as she sat back in her chair, and Gold mourned the increased distance between them.  " _I_ want to know what the hell is going on.  You’re not getting what you want until I get what I want.“

For half a second, Gold imagined hearing that threat under very different circumstances.  What a wonderful game that would be— Belle teasing him to the point of madness before forcing his head down and demanding that he satisfy her completely before she would have mercy on him.

The image made his mouth go dry, and he swallowed with effort, cursing himself.  That part of his life was over now, and it was demeaning to Belle to think about her in such a way.  It was also _extremely_ counterproductive.

Gold had completely lost his train of thought, but Belle refused to accept his silence.  "What did Dr. Whale tell you at that appointment?  And don’t lie to me this time.”

Her words gave him a flash of hope.  She didn’t _know_.  Oh yes, she knew he was in the hospital and that something was wrong, but she didn’t know he was dying.  

He did his best to sound nonchalant.  "I have a minor heart condition, that’s all.  Nothing serious.“

"Nothing _serious_?” she demanded, her blue eyes flashing fire.  "If it’s nothing serious, why didn’t you tell me?“

"I suppose it was a wake-up call.  A reminder that life is short— too short to waste on a relationship that brings me no joy.”

It took every bit of strength he had to force out the cruel words, and the weight of them hanging in the air between him and Belle nearly broke him.

Belle’s face crumpled like he’d slapped her.  "You’re lying.“

"It gives me no pleasure to hurt you.”  At least he could speak that much truth.  "Stop asking questions if you don’t want to hear the answers.“

"You _called_ for me!  You were happy to see me when you woke up!”

Belatedly, Gold realized what must have happened.  In his collapse, he’d been less than coherent, and Dove had completely misinterpreted what he’d been trying to say.  That he could explain away, but how could he deny what Belle had seen with her own eyes?  Waking to see her beside him had been glorious until he remembered why he couldn’t allow her to be by his side.

He sniffed haughtily.  "I wasn’t thinking clearly.“

Belle grabbed the arms of her chair and leaned forward, the fire in her eyes threatening to set him ablaze.  "You love me.  You’re pushing me away because that’s what you do when things get hard.  You’re afraid that I’m going to walk out on you like everyone else, so you’re walking away first.  Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.”  Belle knew him better than anyone in the world, but in this case, she had everything backwards.  He was walking away because he knew that she never would, not even to save herself.

“ _Bullshit_.”  Her snarled curse made him blink.  Belle never swore.

“Enough.”  He couldn’t take any more of this.  If she kept pushing, he would eventually crack and tell her the truth, and all would be lost.  "Don’t make me humiliate you by calling security to have you removed.“

Belle’s lips tightened into a narrow line, and for an instant, Gold had the feeling she was considering smothering him with a pillow.  Then she drew in a long breath and slowly released it before she reached out to rest her hand on his forearm.  "Ciaran, please.  You don’t have to do this.  I _love_ you.  Nothing is going to change that.  It’s going to be okay.  Whatever’s going on, I’ll help you.  All you have to do is let me in.”

Her voice was low and persuasive, and Gold felt himself falling under her spell despite his best intentions.  What was the point of hurting her by continuing to fight?  

He looked away, trying to create some emotional space to gather his thoughts and found himself looking at her feet, which were clad in blue paper slippers instead of her beloved high heels.  "What are you wearing?“

"Hm?”  Belle followed his gaze and chuckled as she held up one foot for his perusal.  "I kind of freaked out when Dove called me.  I didn’t even bother putting shoes on before I ran here.  Don’t worry.  One of the nurses cleaned up my feet.“

Sick horror filled him as he looked closer, seeing the outline of bandages through the thin paper.  Belle ran across town barefoot to reach his side, and he could only imagine what damage she’d inflicted upon herself in the process.   _This_ was why he had to keep fighting.  Belle had gotten hurt because of him, and they’d barely scratched the surface of his condition.  Things could only get worse from here, and he wouldn’t let that happen.

"It’s time for you to leave,” he rasped.

“No.”  Belle’s fingers laced through his, holding on hard.  "I’m not leaving you.  We’re going to get through this together.“

There was no light at the end of this tunnel, only an oncoming train, and he refused to allow her to tie herself to the railroad tracks.  He jerked his hand out of her grasp, grimly pleased at the dull shock of pain that shot through his chest at the violent movement.  He deserved to suffer for treating her like this.

"I don’t want you here,” he bit out, enunciating each word so clearly that the sharp edges nearly sliced into his tongue.

Belle folded her arms across her chest and glared back.  "I don’t care.  I’m staying.“

Her stubbornness was one of the things he loved about her, but right now, Gold cursed it.  Why couldn’t she be more tractable?  He was trying to do the right thing, but she was making it nearly impossible to be noble.

If she wouldn’t cooperate, she left him no choice.  Gold pressed his thumb down onto the call button, holding it until a nurse stepped into the room.  "Please have security escort Miss French from my room.”

“What is _wrong_ with you!” Belle exploded, her small form trembling with anger.

Anger was better than grief.  "I believe I’ve made my wishes very clear.  Leave.“

When she continued to glare at him, he arranged his features into his most threatening expression.  ” _Now_.“

Belle slammed her hands down onto the armrests so hard that the nurse jumped at the sound.  "You’re an _idiot_.”

No doubt, she was correct.  He’d been an idiot to think he actually deserved to live happily ever after with her.  At least the universe had given him six months before ripping the rug out from beneath his feet.  

With her head held high, Belle stalked out of the room, the nurse trailing after her.  The moment he was alone, Gold sagged back onto the bed, his strength deserting him.  He did the right thing, he assured himself.  He put Belle’s best interests ahead of his own.  He won this round.

So, why did he feel so defeated?


	13. Chapter 13

Belle was shaking as she stalked the halls of the hospital, torn between returning to Ciaran’s room and screaming at him until he told her what was going on and simply going home and pretending she’d never met anyone named Ciaran Gold.

Why did he have to be so _infuriating_?

Her hands itched to shake him until his teeth rattled, and that decided her.  No matter how much he deserved a good shaking, Ciaran was recovering from a heart attack.  She needed to get her temper under control, at least for the time being.  Once he was recovered, _then_ she could throttle him.

“You bastard,” she muttered as she headed for the hospital’s exit, and the medical personnel she passed gave her a wide berth.  Belle was too intent on replaying the entire confrontation with Ciaran to notice.

He’d called _security_ on her.  After all their years of friendship and six months of romance, he threatened to have her removed from his presence like she was the new Zelena Greene.  Worse, he’d called their relationship a waste of time.

Somehow, she made it back to the library apartment, and Belle threw herself into the window seat, half-tempted to beat her head against the glass.  It would be less painful than trying to have a conversation with Ciaran.  

When Whale told her that Ciaran was ill, everything had come into focus for Belle.  It would be perfectly in character for him to decide to push her away before she could leave of her own volition, but when she promised him that no illness could ever tear her from his side, his cold facade hadn’t cracked.  She’d all but vowed to stick by him in sickness and in health, and he’d looked revolted, not relieved.

Did she have it wrong?  Had Whale’s diagnosis—whatever it was—really been the wake-up call that Ciaran said it was?  Maybe he wasn’t pushing her away out of fear.  Maybe he really had decided that life was too short to waste on her.

Belle sucked in a harsh breath and dug her nails into her palms.  She couldn’t believe that.  She _wouldn’t_ believe that.  At his most vulnerable, he had called for her.  When he first woke to see her in the hospital, his eyes had been filled with warmth and love.  He did want her with him, but he was pushing her away in spite of that.

Why?

That was the question she’d been asking herself for days, and she was no closer to an answer.  The only person who could explain Ciaran’s motivations was Ciaran himself, and he wasn’t talking.  When it mattered most, there was nothing Belle could do.

With a groan, she uncurled her legs, accidentally kicking her copy of _Tam Lin_ to the floor.  More for something to do than out of any concern for the apartment’s tidiness, she leaned over to pick it up and nearly fell off the window seat as she realized what she was holding.

“Thank you,” she whispered, not sure if she was talking to the universe or an almighty being or the book’s author, Pamela Dean.  

It was Midas who’d first given her the clue, but she’d been too distraught to register it.  Now, everything became clear.  There _was_ something she could do.

_Handcuff yourself to his hospital bed until the fool comes to his senses._

It was possible that Midas had meant the words as a joke, but as far as Belle was concerned, better advice had never been given.  If she was going to reach Ciaran, she was going to have to take a page out of _Tam Lin_ and do what Janet did to save her Thomas: she had to hold on.

They didn’t live in a fairy tale, and Ciaran was unlikely to turn into a variety of hideous beasts in his hospital bed, but the principle was the same.  The harder he pushed her away, the more strongly she needed to hold on because she was fighting for him.  She gave up too easily last time.  It wasn’t a mistake she would make again.

This time, Belle opted to put on shoes before leaving the apartment, and it took some doing to find a pair that would accommodate her bandages.  Why did she never think before she acted?  She’d vowed to stand by Ciaran, but the moment he threatened her, she’d walked away.  No wonder he didn’t trust her.

She smirked as she dropped a little insurance policy into her purse.  If Ciaran threatened her with security again, she was ready for him, and if he raged at her, she could tell the truth— she was just doing what Midas said.

Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile when she imagined the look on Ciaran’s face when she handcuffed herself to his hospital bed with the fuzzy blue handcuffs they’d had so much fun with last month.  That night had been _spectacular_ , and if the memory of it didn’t melt his cold reserve, the threat of having everyone who worked in the hospital learn a little too much about what they did in the the privacy of their bedroom should ensure his cooperation.

To Belle’s surprise, no one stopped her when she reentered the hospital and headed for Ciaran’s room on the sixth floor.  At the very least, she would have expected Ciaran to enlist Dove’s help in his efforts to keep her away from him, but the big man was nowhere to be seen.  Optimistically, Belle decided to take that as another bit of evidence that he didn’t really want to push her away, no matter what he said.

As she approached Ciaran’s room, she head Dr. Whale’s voice speaking inside of it, so she paused and leaned against the wall outside the door.  Most of the things she had to say to Ciaran were for his ears alone, and Victor didn’t deserve to be dragged into their personal issues any more than he already had been.

“Your levels show no sign of improvement since your initial tests.  Actually, some of them are worse.”

It was wrong to eavesdrop on a private conversation between Ciaran and his doctor, especially when he’d made it very clear that he didn’t want to share his medical information with her.  Even so, Belle only pricked her ears to hear everything she could.  The missing piece to this puzzle had to be in that appointment Ciaran had with Whale, and if she could get even a hint to set her on the right track, all of this would be resolved sooner rather than later.

Ciaran mumbled something indistinct, leading Whale to press him.  "You _have_ been taking your medication, haven’t you?“

"No.”  The word was clipped and brittle.

For a moment, there was silence, then Whale exploded, “Are you _insane_?  You know, we’re not just trying to mitigate your symptoms.  We’re trying to slow down the progression of this disease.”

“I’m aware of that.”

Belle pressed her hands against the wall, trying to stop the sickening feeling of the world spinning around her.  Whale gave Ciaran medication, and he wasn’t taking it.  What the _hell_ was going on?

“Then why the hell aren’t you taking your pills?” Whale demanded, echoing Belle’s silent question.  "The more damage we can prevent, the more time you’ll have to—"

“My life is not precious to me,” Ciaran overrode him calmly.  "I have no interest in prolonging it.“

Belle’s legs gave out, and she slid down the wall, her mouth opening in a silent scream of horror as the final piece clicked into place.   _That_ was what Ciaran hadn’t been telling her.  Far from the minor heart condition he had confessed to, he was seriously ill, and the disease was threatening to shorten his lifespan.

Worse, Ciaran seemed to be fine with that.

No matter how she tried, Belle couldn’t make any sense of it.  At the very beginning of their association, before they were even friends, Ciaran had been lonely and unhappy, but he'd never been suicidal.  She’d never heard him express any hint that he would prefer to die young.  To the contrary, the moment they discovered just how well they got along, he’d been full of plans for the future.  When they first sat down as a couple to make a list of things they wanted to do together, they’d filled eight pages.

How could it have all gone so wrong?  Was he in pain?  If he was, it would make sense that he might want an escape, but he didn’t act like he was suffering.  If he was, there were drugs for such things, but he wasn’t taking anything Whale gave him.

If he was in pain, surely he would want her comfort, but he was pushing her away.  There was still something here she wasn’t seeing.

"That's… disturbing,” Whale finally said after what seemed like several hours of silence.

On the other side of the door, Belle nodded emphatically.   _Everything_ about this was disturbing.  At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised to discover that Ciaran had been replaced by a previously-unknown evil twin.  She would almost rather that be the case than to have to accept that her beloved’s personality had changed so dramatically in a matter of weeks.

“I’m going to ask Dr. Hopper to come speak with you,” Whale announced.

The mention of the therapist snapped Belle out of her haze.  The solution to this mystery was obvious.  The only mystery was that it had taken her so long to figure it out.  Ciaran was in shock.  Hearing that he was seriously ill had nearly sent Belle around the bend, and he was dealing with it first-hand, which had to be a thousand times harder.  Everything that had happened in the past three weeks could be chalked up to shock.  He wasn’t thinking clearly, that was all.  He was angry and frightened and confused, and he was lashing out because of it.  She’d just happened to get caught in the crossfire.

A fierce wave of tenderness washed over Belle as she shakily stood.  None of this was Ciaran’s fault, and she cursed herself for getting frustrated with him.  He was dealing with something horrible, and she couldn’t expect him to just take it in stride.  Good grief, she could be a viper when she had a _headache_.  The poor man had just learned that he was seriously ill; he was entitled to as much bad behavior as he wanted.

Whale started when he stepped out of the room to see her standing there.  Belle gazed up at him in mute appeal, not even sure what she wanted.  No doubt, he still wasn’t allowed to tell her anything, but she’d heard enough.

Without a word, Whale pulled her into a tight hug.  "I’m _so_ sorry,“ he whispered.

Gently, Belle patted his back.  None of this was his fault.  He was trying to help Ciaran, and that was all that mattered.  

After a moment, the doctor released her and nodded at Ciaran’s door.  "He needs you.”

“I know,” she murmured.  Ciaran needed her now more than ever, and no matter what happened once she walked into that room, she wasn’t leaving his side again.  If all else failed, she still had the handcuffs.

Midas and _Tam Lin_ had taught her what to do.  She would hold on.  Ciaran could rage and threaten and say horrible things, but none of that mattered because nothing would make her let him go.

Belle took a deep breath and stepped through the door.


	14. Chapter 14

The encounter with Whale left Gold feeling drained.  Why did everyone find it necessary to voice an opinion about his choices?  No doubt the doctor thought he was helping, but at this point, all Gold wanted was to be left alone to die in peace.  

He leaned back against the raised head of his hospital bed and closed his eyes, relieved to finally have a moment to himself to get his thoughts in order.  Yet, peace eluded him.  No matter how often he reminded himself that he was only being cruel to Belle to be kind, the image of her stricken face when he called security on her haunted him.

Doing the right thing was _agonizing_.

When he opened his eyes, Belle was standing at the foot of his bed, her face pale and drawn.  As he blinked at her, wondering if she was a mirage, she gave him a wan smile.  "Hey.“

Gold slumped back, feeling the weight of the universe crushing him.  He couldn’t do this any more.  He’d lied to her again and again, said horrible things, threatened her with security, and told her that he no longer loved her.  And she kept coming back.

"I’m sorry,” Belle murmured as she reclaimed the chair next to him.

After everything, _she_ was apologizing to _him_?  In disbelief, Gold turned his head to look at her, wondering if he’d misheard.

“I… um… I sort of overheard your conversation with Dr. Whale.  At least part of it.”  A warm hand came to rest on his clenched fist.

His eyelids fluttered closed in despair.  He’d gone through hell trying to shield her from the truth and all of his efforts had been for naught.  

Belle pried his fist open so she could lace her fingers through his.  "I can only imagine how hard this has been on you, and I haven’t been very supportive.  I’m sorry.  I’ll try to be more understanding from now on.“

"This changes nothing,” he rasped.  

“It changes _everything_ ,” Belle contradicted.  "Ciaran, you’re in shock.  You’re hurting, so you’re lashing out.  It’s _normal_.  My mistake was that I took it personally.  I didn’t understand what was happening.“

"You don’t understand anything.”  Even now, she had it all wrong, and he was too damned tired to keep fighting about this.

“Then explain it to me.”  Belle’s voice was low and compelling as she pleaded with him.  "I want to understand.“

It took all the strength he had to pull his hand out of her grasp, and he instantly mourned the loss of contact.  He turned his face away from her to hide his expression.  "You need to leave.”

“Oh for the love of…”  

Curiosity got the better of him when he heard a soft click.  Gold turned his head to see a challenging look on Belle’s face, and when she pointedly looked down the length of her arm, he followed her gaze to see a very familiar handcuff chaining her wrist to the side of his bed.

For an insane moment, he nearly laughed.  No matter what he did, Belle kept getting the better of him, and if he’d ever wondered why he loved her, this moment illustrated it perfectly.  No one else could outmaneuver him so thoroughly without even trying.  She was a wonder.

“The sooner you get this through your head, the better: _I’m not going anywhere_.  You can’t run me off, Ciaran.  I love you.  Whatever’s going on, we’re in this together  I know you’re scared and mad and all sorts of other things.  I don’t blame you.  But lashing out at me isn’t helping anything.  I’m on your side.  Just tell me what’s going on, and we’ll get through it together.”  

She gave her wrist a little shake, making the handcuff’s chain rattle.  "Or I guess you can call security on me again, and you can explain why I just happened to have a pair of fuzzy blue handcuffs in my purse.“

The sparkle in her eyes was faded, but it was still there, inviting him to share the joke.  The memory of the glorious night she’d chained him to their headboard made his blood run hot even as it tormented him with the reminder of what he’d lost.  They were supposed to spend the rest of their lives playing games like that.  It wasn’t _fair_.

He didn’t realized he’d spoken the words aloud until Belle leaned closer.  "What isn’t fair?”

Cursing himself, he clenched his lips together in a tight line.  He’d always been a master of words, but with Belle, none of them had worked.  The only defense remaining to him was silence.

“Okay,” Belle said softly as she scooted her chair a little closer.  She adjusted her position so she could rest her head against the back of it as she gazed on him with tender eyes and took his hand with her free one.

“Let’s just be quiet together.  I’m here when you want to talk.”  With her thumb she rubbed circles into the back of his hand, the small touch soothing things in him that had been in upheaval for weeks.

He loved her so much that it hurt.

There was no way he could keep fighting her.  He’d tried and tried to save her from his fate, but all of his efforts had come to nothing.  Perhaps that was a good sign.  He’d underestimated Belle’s stubbornness, so maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.  Maybe, if he told her the truth, her sense of self-preservation would kick in, and she would willingly walk away.

“I’m dying.”

Belle sucked in a sharp breath.  "What?“

"That’s what Whale told me at that appointment.  I need a heart transplant.  Without it, I have six months, a year at most.”  Gold was surprised by how calm he felt.

Belle’s eyes went wide, her head shaking to deny his words.  "No.  That can’t be— no.  Oh God, Ciaran…. no.   _No_.“

"I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure if he was apologizing for the lies he’d told or for the ugly truth.

“ _No_.”  Belle’s face was white, her face distraught, and seeing in her in such distress hurt more than anything his failing body had dished out.  

When she reached for him, the handcuff around her wrist brought her up short, and Belle sobbed as she looked down, yanking at the chain.  She fumbled for her purse, probably in search of the key, but her shaking hands betrayed her, sending the bag spilling to the floor.  With a smothered curse, she kicked it away and simply crawled onto the bed, her bound arm pinned awkwardly behind her as she pressed herself against his side and clung to him, the fingers of her free hand burrowing into his hair.

Gold whimpered as he wrapped himself around her as much as he could with the tubes and wires in the way.  This was what he’d been longing for for the past three weeks, and with Belle in his arms, he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever found the strength to push her away.

“No, no, no, no, no…” Belle was whispering against his throat, a litany of denial that broke his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, wishing there was more he could say.

“ _No_!”  Belle lifted her head to look at him, red-rimmed eyes blazing.  "You’re not dying.  I won’t let you die.“

Her passionate words made him smile in spite of himself.  If anyone could outwit the spirit of death, it would be her.  If only there was something she could do.  "There’s nothing to be done.  It’s over, Belle.”

“ _No_.”  She shook her head, refusing to hear him.  "You said you need a transplant.  We’ll get you one.  We’ll get the best doctors—"

“It doesn’t work like that.”  This was even worse than he’d feared.  Belle wouldn’t sleep for the next week, too busy reading everything ever published about his condition, and all of her efforts would be wasted.  It was already too late.

“Yes, it does!  People get transplants every day.  Are you on the list?  Are they looking?  What did Whale say?”  When she tried to sit up, the chain around her wrist held her in place.

“Belle, _think_.  You know my blood type.”  That was something he’d told her during the first year of their association, but at the time, he’d never imagined a situation like this.

Belle’s lips trembled.  "That doesn’t matter.“

Her voice pleaded with him to lie, but if his previous lies hadn’t set her free, maybe the truth would.  "I’m going to die, and it’s going to be slow and miserable.  Before long, I won’t even be able to leave the house.  Not too long after that, I won’t be able to leave my bed.  I’m going to waste away, and you don’t want to watch that happen.”

A rush of blood heated Belle’s face, leaving it pink with what might have been rage.  "What are you saying?“

Gold continued, trying to drill the awful truth into her head.  "I can’t take you to Paris.  I can’t be any kind of a partner to you.  Instead of traveling the world, you’ll be stuck in a room with me playing nursemaid.  That’s what the future looks like— sponge baths and spoon feeding.  That is _not_ what you want.”

Belle’s breath was coming fast as she scooted back, putting as much distance between them as she could get on the narrow bed.  "Is _that_ what this is all about?  You think I’ll be upset because we can’t go to _Paris_?  Do you _really_ think I’m that shallow?“

"I’m saying that you deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.”  Surely she had to see how small her future would be if she stayed with him.

Belle looked like she wanted to slap him.  "So, that’s why you pushed me away?  You didn’t think I’d stand by you?“

For a moment, he was tempted to agree.  Perhaps casting aspersions on her character would make her angry enough to give up on him.  On the other hand, Belle was stubborn enough to stick with him just to prove him wrong.  The truth had gotten them this far.  "Don’t be absurd.  I did it because I knew you _would_.”

When Belle gaped at him, he pressed on.  "Do you think this is what I want?  That I want to watch you work yourself to the bone taking care of me?  I want you to be _happy_.  I want you to have adventures and see the world.“

"I don’t want any of that without you!” Belle sobbed, her face crumpling.

“I’m _dying_ ,” he reminded her, hating the truth of the words for her sake more than he’d ever hated it for his own.  

Belle pressed her lips together in a stubborn line.  "No.  There’s still hope.  We have months, maybe a year, to find a heart for you.  You can’t just give up.  You have to fight.“

"There’s no point in fighting.  Even Whale agrees that the odds of me finding a heart are slim.  The sooner you accept that—”

“Slim doesn’t mean _none_.” Belle cut him off.  "If you can’t hope, I’ll do it for both of us.  I’m not giving up on you.“

"Belle—”

“ _No_!”  Despite her bold words, she dissolved into tears, and Gold cursed as he wrapped his arms around her.  This was everything he hadn’t wanted, but at least now he had the right to comfort her as she cried.

“Just let me go,” he pleaded into her hair.  "Go to Paris.  Go on safari.  Take a world cruise.   _Anything_.  Let me think about you out there having fun.  Don’t do this to yourself.“

"I can’t,” she whimpered.  "How can I ever be happy without you?“

"You’re going to have to be.”  It was cruel to keep telling her that, but she needed to accept it.  He was dying.  No amount of hope or wishful thinking could change that.

Belle’s nails bit into his shoulder.  She was clinging to him like she thought her touch alone could keep him alive, and Gold wished it could.  "I love you,“ she whispered.  "I’d rather spend the rest of my life in locked room with you than see the world on my own.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”  Her words were the most beautiful and the most horrible thing he’d ever heard.  

“You lied to me.  You still love me.”  Her voice was watery.

After the terrible things he’d said, it was no wonder she needed reassurance.  "I love you more than anything.  I _had_ to lie.  I didn’t want you to suffer.  I didn’t want you to watch me die.“

Her nails raked down his back, leaving burning lines.  Belle lifted her head, her face stormy.  "You don’t get to decide that for me!  You don’t get to make that choice!”

“I was trying to do the right thing,” he defended, but with her glaring at him, he could see how selfish he’d been.  For the past three weeks, he’d told himself that he was being noble, but that wasn’t really true.  Yes, he’d wanted to spare her pain, but he’d also been trying to spare himself the pain of watching her break her heart over him.

“You failed horribly,” she snapped.  

An instant later she was crying again, and all he could do was hold her as she burrowed into him.  "I don’t want to be mad at you,“ she whimpered.

"I’m sorry,” he said helplessly, not sure why he thought the words would be more effective the third time he said them.

“I hate that you did that.  You should have _talked_ to me.”  The anguish in her voice made his throat ache.

“I know.”  In his effort to protect her, he’d done everything wrong.

“God, I shouldn’t even be crying.  I’m supposed to be comforting _you_.”  Belle jerked her arm, making the handcuff’s chain rattle.  

“Let it out, sweetheart,” he encouraged.  He’d had three weeks to come to terms with his illness, but Belle had just been blindsided by it.  As far as he was concerned, she was allowed to cry and rage to her heart’s content.

When Belle collapsed into tears, Gold pressed a long kiss to the top of her head.  "I’ve got you,“ he promised.  At least for now that was still true.  

This was everything that he’d feared.  Belle knew that he was dying, and she was refusing to leave him, even to save herself.  His beloved was suffering, and it was his fault.

Despite all of that, Gold couldn’t seem to regret telling her the truth.  With Belle in his arms, the future didn’t seem quite so dark.  If she was going to stay with him, he had a reason to live, and he would fight this sickness with every ounce of strength in his body.  Every minute he had with Belle was precious, and he wouldn’t willingly let a single one slip through his fingers.

If this disease wanted to claim his life, Gold wouldn’t make it easy.  He had Belle to live for, and there was nothing more worth fighting for than that.


	15. Chapter 15

Belle clung to Ciaran, her mind racing a million miles an hour.  A heart transplant was a terrifying thing, but surely the situation wasn’t as dire as he was leading her to believe.  Medical science was advancing by leaps and bounds every year.  There were things like stem cell therapy and artificial organs and all sorts of other treatments available now, and those were just the things she’d heard about in passing.  There had to be _something_ out there that would save his life.

Optimism didn’t come naturally to Ciaran, so she couldn’t blame him for assuming the worst, but that was going to have to stop.  There _was_ a way for him to survive this.  Belle refused to accept any other possibility.  She wasn’t going to give up, even if he already had.

The burning ember of anger that had been glowing in the back of her mind since their encounter at the shop that morning flared to life again as she thought about his actions.  Ciaran had lied to her again and again.  He’d said horrible things to her that made her question their entire relationship, and he’d done it deliberately to push her away.

When the worst happened, he hadn’t reached out to her.  Instead, he’d made the unilateral decision that their relationship was over, and the fact that he’d done it to protect her did nothing to take the metallic taste of rage out of her mouth.  He’d taken away her choices, and it was only her stubbornness and sheer blind luck that had led to her learning the truth.

It was all too easy to picture a world where Ciaran had gotten his way.  If she’d been one ounce less determined to get at the truth, he would have succeeded in slipping away from her to die alone, depriving her of the right to support and care for him in his time of need and depriving himself of the comfort of having a loved one at his side.  

He’d almost destroyed everything, and Belle had no idea how she was going to forgive him for that.

Dimly, she was aware that she was digging her nails into his shoulders and forced herself to stop.  Ciaran either didn’t notice or didn’t care because the soothing hand that was stroking her back never faltered.  He was whispering into her hair, the rumble of his brogue a comforting reminder that he’d failed in his quest to tear them apart.  

“I’m here.  I’ve got you, sweetheart.  I love you, Belle.  I’m sorry.  I love you so much.”

With effort, Belle tried to swallow down the hot coal of her anger.  Later, there would be time to deal with that.  Somehow, she was going to have to find a way to forgive him or at least make peace with his callous actions.  In his twisted way, he’d been trying to do right by her, and that had to count for something.

In the meantime, this wasn’t a time for anger.  For weeks, Ciaran had been dealing with this shattering truth by himself— even if it was his own fault— and he needed her every bit as much as she needed him.

Belle adjusted her grip on him so that she was holding him more than clinging to him and tried to sound confident.  "It’s going to be okay.  We can handle this.  You’re strong, and you’re brave, and you’re going to be fine.“

He made a choking sound.  "You’re the brave one.”

“Then I’ll be brave for both of us,” Belle decided.  If he needed her strength, he could have every drop of it.  If he was falling apart, she would hold him together.

The handcuff held her wrist at an awkward angle, and her arm was starting to fall asleep.  Belle squirmed, and when Ciaran immediately followed her, allowing no distance between their bodies, it helped soothe some of the hurt he’d inflicted.  He hadn’t enjoyed their separation any more than she had.

Belle leaned back just enough so that she could look into his face, looking for outward evidence of his illness.  Ciaran was pale, and she could read exhaustion in his eyes, making her feel fiercely protective of him.  She could be angry later.  Right now, he needed her.  

“I love you, Ciaran,” she whispered, and his brown eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Belle…”  His mouth covered her, his lips hot and desperate, like he was trying to drink her down and erase every painful moment of the past three weeks.

Belle slid her fingers into his hair, urging him closer.  She needed this as much as he did.  After all of the anguish, she needed to feel wanted and loved, proof that he hadn’t meant any of the nasty things he’d said when he was trying to push her away.

When she heard the heart monitor pick up its pace, Belle reluctantly eased him away from her, his whimper of protest sending a shiver down her spine.  "We don’t want Dr. Whale running in to see why your heart is beating so fast.“

Ciaran chuckled as he rubbed his nose against hers.  "And seeing you handcuffed to my bed.”

She hadn’t even been thinking about that, but now that he mentioned it, Belle found herself giggling as she imagined the look on the doctor’s face should he decide to check on his patient.  Then again, Victor _had_ been the one to suggest it, even if Midas had had the original idea.

She nudged Ciaran onto his back so she could adjust her position more comfortably against him.  Even when everything was a disaster, Ciaran knew how to make her smile, and the thought of losing him made her blood run cold.  He _couldn’t_ die.  He just couldn’t.  

A loud wail from the hall outside the room made her jump, and Ciaran wrapped his arms more firmly around her.  Through the closed door came the muffled sound of a woman’s despairing voice, “How will I live without him?”

The woman’s words so perfectly matched Belle’s own thoughts that she felt half-sick at the sound of them.  In the hallway, the woman continued to cry loudly.  "He was my world!  My _everything!_   Oh God, how could this happen?  Why?   _Why_?“

Belle cringed, aware that next to her, Ciaran had gone quiet and still.  "Get up,” he muttered to her.

“Up,” he repeated when she didn’t move, his voice so strict that Belle found her body scrambling to obey before her mind caught up.

She half-fell off the bed, landing in a crouch that put her purse within reach.  After a moment’s digging, she found the handcuff key and unlocked herself as the woman in the hallway howled in grief.  "How can the world be so _cruel_?  Oh God, _why_!“

There was something familiar about that voice, and Belle was still struggling to place it when the door to Ciaran’s room burst open to admit a woman dressed all in black, complete with a small hat adorned with a veil that obscured her face.  Behind her was a man in his early seventies who was patting her back consolingly.  Bringing up the rear came an uncomfortable looking nurse.

"I can’t bear to see!” the woman announced as she turned her back on Ciaran to embrace her companion, who was staring at Ciaran with a look of consternation on his face.  The nurse, her task complete, fled.

“Hello, Papa,” Ciaran said in a dry voice.

Belle tried to keep her expression neutral as she examined the man who she now knew to be Malcolm Gold, Ciaran’s long-estranged father.  After the stories Ciaran had told her, she’d been envisioning a monster, but Malcolm was a pleasant enough looking man.  Only his weak chin hinted at his dissolute character.

At the sound of his voice, the woman turned, her eyes narrowing behind her veil.  "You’re alive.“

"Am I?”  Ciaran glanced down at himself in apparent surprise.  "Yes, it appears that I am.  Well spotted, Milah.“

With that, the final piece clicked into place.  Ciaran’s father and ex-wife were here because they thought he’d died, and from the identical looks of disappointment on their faces, they weren’t pleased to learn otherwise.

Belle felt sick at the thought that she’d commiserated with Milah, even momentarily.  

Ciaran raised a sardonic eyebrow.  "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Malcolm rubbed his hands together briskly and rallied.  "You can hardly expect your loved ones to stay away when they hear the news about your tragic demise.“

"I’m not dead,” Ciaran reminded him.

“Not yet,” Malcolm agreed.  "The doctor gave you six months, didn’t he, Ciari?“

Belle’s jaw dropped at the other man’s effrontery, and even Ciaran looked nonplussed.  Malcolm’s smile turned smug.  Laying a finger aside his nose, he gave Ciaran a knowing wink.  "I have my sources.  I keep close tabs on you, my boy.”

“I can’t imagine why it would matter to you,” Ciaran said, his voice glacial.  "Neither of you are going to see a single penny whether I live six months or six more decades.“

For a moment, Milah’s face went white with rage, then she dissolved into tears.  "What a horrible thing to say!  As if your money means anything to me.  When I heard how sick you are, I realized what a fool I was to let you go.  I’ve always loved you, Ciaran, and I know you still love me.  Thank God, I got here in time.  We have a second chance!”

The other woman’s arrogance took Belle’s breath away.  After everything Milah had done to Ciaran— and Belle was willing to bet that he hadn’t told her everything about their history— she genuinely believed she could sweep back into his life and have him take her back.  "You’re insane.“

Milah glared at her.  "Obviously, your housekeeper will have to go.”

“Milah, you’re as constant as the sun,” Ciaran informed her, and the other woman beamed.

He continued without missing a beat.  "When you were eighteen, you would have sold your soul to the devil for a meal ticket, and thirty years later, nothing has changed.  The moment I changed my will, you’d smother me in my sleep, and it would be an act of mercy.  Any sane man would rather be dead than be with you.“

Belle hid a laugh behind her hand as rage transformed Milah’s face.  "You son of a _bitch_.”

Ciaran nodded.  "That she is, but at least my mother has enough dignity not to demean herself by showing up here with her hand out.  That’s more than I can say for either of you.“

"This isn’t over, Ciaran,” Malcolm threatened.

“Actually, I think it is.  I’ve spent decades making sure that neither of you could get your hands on my estate, and there’s nothing you can do about it.  I’d recommend you both leave Storybrooke before I decide to make use of some of the information that I’ve collected over the years.”

Ciaran smiled blandly, and Belle wondered if Malcolm and Milah could see the malice as clearly as she could.  Since they weren’t running for their lives, she rather doubted it.  

“You’re not the only one keeping tabs, Papa.  I wonder what Felix would say if he learned about that meeting you had with Ms. Mendall.  I don’t believe he has much tolerance for disloyalty.”  Ciaran’s smile widened into something like a snarl, his gold tooth glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Malcolm blinked rapidly and held up a conciliatory hand.  "Now, Ciari, there’s no need to be rash.  I’m your papa.“

Ciaran ignored the plea as he turned his attention to Milah.  "Does Killian know how close you and Liam are?”

Milah went white.  "You wouldn’t dare.“

"Wouldn’t I?”

The two of them stared at each other, unblinking, and Milah looked away first.  Without another word she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, Malcolm following behind.  It was over.

Ciaran leaned back, a satisfied expression on his face.  "I think we’ve seen the last of those two.  I have to admit that felt good.“

After all of the stories Ciaran had told her about his father and ex-wife, Belle had vowed that if she ever came face-to-face with either of them, she would have plenty to say.  "You didn’t give me a chance to yell at them.”

His eyebrows lifted.  "Did you want to?“  

"Well, yeah.”  It would have felt good to unload some of her emotional turmoil on two such deserving targets.

He chuckled and caught her hand, lifting it to his mouth.  "I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I thought it best to get rid of them as quickly as possible.  I know what they’re capable of, and I didn’t want to risk having their attention focused on you.“

When he put it like that, she couldn’t really blame him.  He’d been trying to protect her, and this time he’d found a way to do it that didn’t involve lying to her and casting her out of his life.  That was definitely an improvement.  "They’re even worse than I imagined them.”

“They’re certainly unpleasant people.  Fortunately, I know how to play their game.”  His mouth twisted.  

“I learned something important from watching that.”  When Ciaran gave her a curious look, Belle explained, “You didn’t _really_ want to run me off.  Let’s face it, I’ve given you plenty of blackmail material over the years, and you didn’t use any of it.”

Ciaran stared at her for a moment, then he started to laugh, the sound free and light-hearted.  It wasn’t until that moment that Belle realized just how long it had been since she heard him laugh, and the sound was contagious.  He tugged on her hand, encouraging her to climb back onto the bed, and she went willingly, snuggling into his arms as they laughed together.  

“If I wanted to get rid of you, I should have threatened to tell everyone about those trashy romance novels you read,” he said playfully.  "Everyone thinks you spend your free time reading _War and Peace,_ but I know the truth.“

Belle lifted a theatrical hand to her brow.  "Oh no!  How would I ever live down the shame!”

Ciaran growled and nipped at her earlobe.  "You’d better stay on my good side if you want me to keep quiet.“

This was what she’d missed most during their weeks of separation.  More than anything, Belle had missed how comfortable and silly they could be with each other.  No one made her smile like Ciaran could, and if worst came to worst, she didn’t know how she was going to live without that.

Swallowing hard, she tried to push that thought away.  "That door swings both ways.  I know _your_ secrets too,” she threatened, doing her best to keep her tone light.  

“My life is an open book.”

The blatant falsehood made her giggle.  "Oh really?  So everyone already knows that scary movies bother you so much that you have to sleep with the lights on afterward?“

He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her.  "It seems we’re at an impasse.”

Belle kissed his fingertip.  "I guess it’s a good thing we’re on the same side.“

Ciaran replaced his finger with his mouth, the lingering kiss making Belle’s toes curl.  "It’s a very good thing.”

That was what was most important.  They had an uphill battle ahead of them, but as long as they were together, they would make it.  

As long as they were together, they could do anything.


	16. Chapter 16

He’d missed his bed.

Gold leaned back against the headboard and stretched luxuriously as he looked around the bedroom.  After three weeks on his office couch and four days in the hospital, he’d almost forgotten how gloriously comfortable this bed was.  Not that everything was picture perfect yet.  The bedroom itself was still barren of Belle’s belongings, but that was only temporary.  She and Dove had gone to retrieve her things from the library apartment, and by the time dusk came, everything would be as it should be.  Belle would be home.

He’d wanted to help, but Belle had told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to rest, and Gold couldn’t deny that she was right.  He was weary to the bone, as much because he’d barely been sleeping in the weeks prior to his heart attack as from the medical issue itself.  Being in the hospital hadn’t helped matters.  He’d scarcely had a moment to talk with Belle, let alone rest, because there was always a nurse coming in to give him medicine, check his vital signs, or add something to his IV.  Whale had been a frequent visitor to his hospital room, and Archie Hopper had shown up more than once, both of them bristling with concern as much over his mental state as his physical health.  Whale had refused to sign his release papers until the doctor was certain that Gold was going to follow his treatment plan.

Whale had nothing to worry about since Gold had every intention of being a model patient from this point forward.  Now that Belle was back in his life, he had something to live for.

In hindsight, he could admit that he’d been a fool.  Belle wasn’t the sort of woman who appreciated having someone else make her decisions for her, even with the best of intentions, and that was exactly what he’d done.  Not only had he withheld crucial information from her, he’d blatantly lied and manipulated her, and it was a wonder that she’d forgiven him so easily.  

The sound of the front door opening made him smile.  Belle was home, and sappy as it was, he’d missed her.  She’d been gone for less than ninety minutes, but even that was too long after their three week separation.  How had he ever imagined he could live without her for the rest of his life?

Clearly, she was as eager to see him as he was to see her because the slam of the front door closing was immediately followed by the staccato clack of her shoes on the stairs.  It was only today that her feet had healed enough that she could wear her beloved high heels again, and Gold swallowed a flash of guilt.  His poor decisions had led to Belle getting hurt, and it was going to be hard to forgive himself for that, even if she’d already forgiven him.

He looked up eagerly as the sound of her footsteps approached the bedroom door, his smile of welcome fading when he got his first look at her face.  Belle’s color was high, her eyes flashing with something that looked like rage.

“What happened?”  Belle had enough to deal with considering his condition.  If someone had upset her, there would be hell to pay.

“Dove and I took the Cadillac to get my stuff.”

When she paused, Gold nodded at her to continue.  Perhaps a witless driver had gotten them into a fender bender.  That would certainly be annoying, but as long as Belle—and Dove—were unhurt, there was no real harm done.

“And?” he prompted when no more of the story seemed to be forthcoming.

Breathing hard, Belle stepped fully into the room, a grocery bag in her hand.  As Gold watched in confusion, she threw the bag overhand at him, the contents rattling when it landed in the center of the bed.

Oh hell.

“Belle…”

He’d tossed the bag of medication Whale had given him at his initial appointment into the Cadillac’s trunk and promptly forgotten all about it.  At the time, there had been no reason to take his pills.  Why try to mitigate his symptoms when the discomfort caused by his condition was a small price to pay as penance for the way he was mistreating Belle?  He’d certainly had no desire to slow down the development of his disease.  Without Belle, there had been no point in prolonging his miserable life.

He’d made one terrible decision after another and now Belle was holding proof of his stupidity.

Belle was glaring at the bag of medication, and when she looked up at him, her face was pinched, her eyes bloodshot.  "I don’t know how to stop being mad at you.“

Her voice shook with misery, and Gold quickly pushed himself off the bed to limp to her side.  "I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

When he tried to take her in his arms, she jerked away, her eyes flashing.  "That’s not good enough!“

"I don’t know what to say.”  If he had this past month to live over again, he’d do things very differently, but Gold didn’t have that luxury.  The past was the past.  All they could do was try to find a way forward.

“I don’t _want_ to be mad at you.  If we only have six months, I don’t want to waste a single minute being mad.  But I don’t know how to stop!”

Her words were an anguished wail, and Gold felt tears pricking at his eyes as he forced himself to face Belle’s agony.  This was his fault.  He’d done this.

“You already cost us three weeks that we could have had together.  We can’t get that time back!  And who knows how much damage you did by not taking your medicine?  What if that costs us more time?  If you were supposed to have six months, maybe now you’ll only have five, and what if there’s a heart for you, only it’s too late?  How could you be so _stupid_!”  

Her voice had been steadily rising in volume until she was shouting.  It cracked on her last word, and Belle sat down hard on the floor, curling into a miserable ball as she sobbed.  Gold flinched as the full impact of his terrible decisions hit him squarely in the face.

Not sure if she would welcome his comfort or not, he awkwardly lowered himself to the floor beside her and put a tentative arm around her shoulders.  Instantly, Belle collapsed against him, crying like her heart was breaking, and he wrapped arms and legs around her, trying to engulf her in himself as he wished there was a way for him to draw all of her pain into his own body.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I was stupid.  I was so stupid, and I’m sorry.  I’d do anything to take it all back.  I should have taken my pills.  I never should have pushed you away.  I did everything wrong, and I’m _sorry_.”  He rubbed her back as he pressed kisses against her hair, hating how useless his words were.

“I’m not going to let this thing get me.  I’m going to fight for you.  Nothing means more to me than our life together.  If Whale says I have six months, I’m going to live ten.  If he gives me a year, I’ll live two.  I am _never_ going to stop fighting for you.”  He would fight death tooth and claw in order to stay with Belle.

“I don’t want to be mad at you,” Belle sobbed.

He shook his head.  "Be mad.  I deserve it.  I’m mad at myself.  Be mad, sweetheart.  Just be here with me.  As long as you’re with me, I don’t care if you hate me.“

His pajama top was wet with her tears by the time she finally cried herself out.  Belle slumped against his shoulder, her head heavy.  "I don’t hate you,” she said in a stuffy voice.

“You’d be well within your rights.  I did something horrible to you, and my good intentions aren’t worth much.  I hurt you badly, and you have every right to be angry at me.  I’m _sorry_ , Belle.  I swear that I will never push you away again.”  He sealed the promise with a kiss to her forehead, feeling how hot her skin was.

She was going to give herself a headache if she didn’t cool down.  "Come on,“ he urged as he tried to get them to their feet.  "I’ll get you a cold cloth for your head and we’ll lie down together.  You’ll be more comfortable on the bed.”

It took some effort, but they eventually managed to climb to their feet, clinging together like victims of a shipwreck.  The hateful bag was still lying in the center of the bed, and Gold’s mouth twisted as he reached for it, meaning to get it out of Belle’s sight.  She didn’t need the reminder of his stupidity.

When he moved to step away, Belle caught his arm.  "If it was me, what would you do?“

Try as he might, Gold could made no sense of her question.  "What do you mean?”

“If there was something wrong with me— something horrible that the doctors couldn’t fix— what would you do?”

Her question sent a cold chill down his spine.  He couldn’t bear to live in a universe so cruel that it would cut Belle’s life short.  That was the only good thing about this situation: at least it was _him_ who was sick.  He’d die a thousand times to spare her.  "I don’t want to think about it.“

"Would you leave me?”  Her voice was soft, almost childlike.

It hurt that she even had to ask.  " _Never_ , sweetheart.  I’d never leave your side.  I’d hire the best doctors in all the world, and if there was nothing to be done, I’d take care of you and hold you until the end.“  

And he’d pray that the universe would swiftly take him too, so he could be reunited with his beloved.

Belle looked up at him with miserable eyes.  "How could you think I would do less for you?”

The question stabbed into his ribs like a knife, making him wheeze for breath.  How could have have done this to her?  "I knew you would, sweetheart.  I knew you’d stay with me.  I just wanted to spare you that.“

"Would I be a burden to you?  Would it be better if I just disappeared one day, so you didn’t have to deal with me being sick?”

She just kept twisting the knife.  "Of course not.  It would be my honor to care for you, to help you in any way I could.  I’d rather spend months nursing you than spend a single day without you.“

Belle stared up at him, her blue eyes intent, and Gold swallowed a mouthful of bile as he suddenly got her point.  "Oh.”

He hadn’t just been stupid.  He’d been thoughtless and cruel, and no matter how angry Belle was at him, it couldn’t hold a candle to how angry he was at himself.  "I thought it was better this way.  I didn’t think you could feel for me what I feel for you,“ he defended weakly, instantly regretting the words when Belle’s jaw clenched.

"What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?”

Too late, he realized that his words could easily be taken the wrong way.  Belle might well be assuming that he was telling her that he didn’t believe her capable of that sort of self-sacrificing love.  "I didn’t mean it like that.“

"I sincerely hope you didn’t.  How _did_ you mean it, Ciaran?” she demanded.  

“I knew that you’d be upset, but I thought you’d get over it.  I know you love me, but Storybrooke is a small town.  I thought that when you saw what was out there, you wouldn’t miss me.”  From the look on her face, he was only digging a deeper hole for himself.  

He caught her hands and gazed into her eyes, willing her to understand.  "Belle, you are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.  You’re brilliant and funny and brave and beautiful, inside and out.  Anyone with a drop of common sense would fall madly in love with you.  But me… sweetheart, I’m not any of those things.  You could do _so_ much better than me.  It’s just that in Storybrooke, you haven’t had the chance.“

Understanding dawned in her eyes.  "You thought I’d meet someone new and forget about you.”

Gold swallowed hard and nodded reluctantly, not sure if she was going to smile fondly at his foolishness or slap him across the face.  He knew which action he would prefer.

“How can you think that?”  Belle shook her head, looking at him like she’d never seen him before.

When he shrugged, she squeezed his hands.  "Ciaran, I _love_ you.  It wouldn’t matter if I met a million other men because you are the only one for me.  You listen to me.  You make me laugh.  You make me _think_.  I could do nothing for the rest of my life but talk to you, and I wouldn’t be bored for a second.  I could never forget you or replace you because you’re everything that I want.  It hurts me to hear that you don’t value yourself as much as I do.  You’re _wonderful_.“

Her beautiful words made the breath catch in his throat, and when he sobbed, Belle wrapped her arms around him.  "That’s it, isn’t it?  It’s not that you don’t think I love you, it’s that you don’t think you’re worthy of love.  That’s why you thought it would be better if you pushed me away and let yourself die.”

He hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but Belle had aimed a spotlight at his vulnerabilities.  "I suppose so,“ he managed to choke out.

"Stupid man,” she muttered, but her voice was fond.  

“Are you still angry with me?”

“Oh yes.”  Belle stepped out of his embrace and lifted her hand to the side of his face, smiling tenderly.  "Not as mad though.“

"Thank you.”  He hadn’t earned her forgiveness, but Belle was giving it to him anyway, or at least the first step.

She tugged him toward the bed, pausing only long enough to toss the bag of medication aside.  "If you don’t think you deserve love, I’ll just have to prove you wrong,“ she announced as she claimed her side of the mattress and motioned for him to join her.  

In a moment, they were entwined on the bed, and Gold exhaled shakily, his senses overloading with the sheer joy of having Belle in his arms again.  They were together, and that was all that mattered.

"Your things,” he murmured, remembering the errand that had started this entire thing.

Belle kissed his cheek.  "I’ll get them later.  Right now, this is all I need.“

Gold pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair.  "Still love me?”

He could feel her smile against his throat.  "Madly.  You idiot.“

Her affectionate tone turned the insult into an endearment, making him smile helplessly.  "I love you too.”


	17. Chapter 17

Slowly, the urge to shake Ciaran until his teeth rattled was fading.

Belle snuggled a little closer to him, wrapping her arm around his waist and pillowing her head on his chest so she could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear.  No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t hear any evidence of the disease that was threatening to take him from her, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.  Either it meant that his illness hadn’t yet progressed to a point where its signs were obvious or it meant she couldn’t pick up on the subtle changes that might spell disaster.

She should have gone to medical school instead of studying literature.

Ciaran stroked her hair with a gentle hand, and Belle found herself relaxing.  Despite Whale’s dreadful prophecies, things were going well so far.  Yes, Ciaran was pale and tired, but that might owe as much to the drama of the past three weeks as it did to his condition.  With her in his arms, he certainly seemed to be in good spirits.

Of course, their conversation about his untaken medicine had revealed that Ciaran was capable of hiding any number of things from her, with Belle being none the wiser.  She’d certainly had no idea that he considered himself so completely unworthy of love.

In hindsight, she should have realized that sooner.  Even if he’d never told her anything about his father and ex-wife, meeting Malcolm and Milah would have been an eye-opening experience.  No one could spend years with those two monsters without walking away with at least a few scars.  Ciaran, sadly, had far more than that.

It was hard to stay angry at him when every bad decision he’d made had been made with her best interests in mind.  Stupid as it was, Ciaran had truly believed he was doing right by her.  He’d considered himself a burden that she was better off without and assumed that she would be happier without him.  He’d been as wrong as it was possible for a man to be, but his heart had been in the right place.

"I love you,” she murmured, as much for the pleasure of being able to say the words as because she thought he needed to hear them.

Ciaran made a soft noise and pulled her closer.  "And I love you.“

That was all that mattered.  They were on the same page now and fighting the real enemy: his heart condition.  Together, they were stronger than either of them were apart.  

"I missed you terribly these last few weeks.  You can’t do that to me again.”  He’d sworn up and down never to push her away again, but Belle wanted to make her position on the matter _extremely_ clear.  

“Never,” he promised immediately.  "I’d never have the strength.  The past month has been a nightmare.“

"So, you missed me too?”  She was blatantly fishing, but Belle couldn’t help it.  Even though she knew that all the nasty things he’d said had been nothing but lies, she was still hungry for reassurance.

“I nearly lost my mind missing you.  I could scarcely bear to step foot in this room and not have you here.  I’ve been sleeping in my office because I couldn’t sleep in this bed without you.”  He rolled onto his side, cocooning her with his own body as he tugged the blankets over them.

No one else in Storybrooke would believe the fearsome Mr. Gold capable of such extravagantly romantic sensibilities.  Belle slid her hands under his pajama top to caress his back, wondering how the rest of the world could be so blind.  "I’m here now.“

"Thank God for that,” he rasped.

Belle lifted her face for a kiss that Ciaran was happy to oblige her with.  She could taste his desperation, a feeling she shared, but she didn’t dare give into it just yet.  Although she badly wanted to reaffirm their bond, Ciaran needed rest more than he needed sex right now.  Really, she was going to have to have an embarrassing conversation with Dr. Whale some time in the near future.  Over the past six months, she and Ciaran had enjoyed an active and imaginative carnal relationship, but she wasn’t sure how much of that his health would allow now.

To that end, Belle kept the kiss from turning passionate, offering him comfort and taking it in turn.  She couldn’t say that she wouldn’t miss their bedtime activities should worst come to worst, but as long as they could still do this, she would be content.

“Do you have any other sins that you need to confess to me?” she asked.  If he’d made any other stupid decisions, it was better that she find out about them now.

“I was planning to leave Storybrooke,” Ciaran admitted.

At her sharp look, he winced.  "I rented a cottage in upstate New York.  I was going to move at the end of the month.“

That was less than a week away.  "So, you were just going to disappear?”

“I thought it was better that way,” he defended weakly.

Belle reconsidered her decision not to shake him until his teeth rattled.  "In other words, if you hadn’t had a heart attack, you would have just vanished one day, and I never would have seen you again.“

Until that moment, Belle hadn’t thought it was possible to be grateful that Ciaran had had a heart attack.

He scrunched up his face like he was expecting her to slap him.  "I was going to write you a letter explaining my actions.”

“After you were safely out of town?”  As if that would have stopped her from hunting him down.

“To be opened after my death.”  The words came out in a rush, as though he hoped she wouldn’t hear them if he said them fast enough.

Belle tried to imagine what that would have been like.  How would she have felt had Ciaran disappeared from Storybrooke without a word, only to tell her the truth in a letter delivered months later when it was far too late to do any good?  It was too easy to envision a world where that was exactly how this whole thing played out, and the thought of how close she’d come to losing everything sent a chill down her spine.

“Belle?  Say something,” he requested.

She realized she was grinding her teeth and tried to stop.  "If you’d done that, I would have dug you up and taught myself necromancy just so I could bring you back from the dead so I could scream at you before I killed you myself.“

He patted her back.  "A fine plan.”

“Have you _always_ been an idiot?” she demanded.

“Yes.  I’m sorry that I hid it from you for so long.”

Belle burst into snorting laughter that almost hurt.  She pillowed her head against Ciaran’s chest as she laughed, feeling brittle.  It was like she’d just walked across a fraying tightrope above a pit of hungry crocodiles, only she hadn’t realized the danger she was in until she alighted on the other side.  She couldn’t imagine the sheer amount of luck that had been required to ensure she and Ciaran ended up together in this bed, all secrets revealed.

By the time she regained control of herself, her chest ached and her head was swimming.  "I have decided that you are no longer allowed to make decisions without supervision.“

He chuckled.  "That’s fair.  I haven’t been doing a particularly good job of it.”

Belle let her breath out in a whoosh, feeling giddy.  "Is there anything _else_ you need to tell me?“

"The inheritance from your Uncle Elmer…” he began.

This time she was able to put the pieces together for herself.  "Let me guess.  There’s a reason Dad was having so much trouble placing Uncle Elmer on our family tree.“

"I didn’t think you’d accept the money if you knew it was from me,” he explained.

So, instead, he’d had Midas manufacture an imaginary dead uncle to leave her a windfall inheritance.  It was no wonder that her beloved was a force to be reckoned with in the business world.  Belle was almost proud of him.  "You manipulative bastard.“

There was no heat in her words, and Ciaran’s pleased smile told her that he’d taken them in the spirit she’d intended.  "You have to admit that it was a clever bit of problem-solving.”

“You don’t get points for solving a problem that you created,” she reminded him.

His face fell.  "I suppose.  But it was still clever.“

Belle took pity on him and reached up for another kiss.  "It was very clever, darling.  If you ever do it again, I will make you regret it.”

“I will never lie to you again,” he promised.

“Even if you think it’s in my best interests.”

“Even then.”

“In that case, I forgive you.”  With a deep breath, Belle released the last vestiges of her anger.  Ciaran had made a series of enormous mistakes that had nearly had life-altering consequences, but somehow they’d gotten lucky.  The worst hadn’t happened, and he’d had the best of intentions.  She couldn’t fault him for that.

She could feel him playing with her hair, wrapping individual curls around his fingers and tugging on them.  "What were you going to do with the money?“ he asked in an idle tone.

"I was planning to travel,” she admitted, hoping that her answer wouldn’t hurt him too badly.  They’d planned to see the world together, but that was out of the question now.  Forcing herself to be optimistic, Belle told herself that their plans were only delayed, not canceled.  

To her surprise, Ciaran seemed pleased by her response.  "That’s just what I’d hoped you’d do.  Let me guess… England?“

"I had it narrowed down to London or Bali.”  

“Excellent choices.”  He sighed, the sound more wistful than sad.  "I wish we could just pack up and go.  Leave tomorrow and go somewhere beautiful.  We had so many plans.“

"After you get your new heart we’ll do all of them.”  Belle refused to imagine any other possible future.

When he didn’t respond, she gave him a gentle nudge.  "We don’t have to put all of our plans on hold.  That list we made is eight pages long.  I bet there are things on there that we can still do.“

Shortly after they’d admitted their feelings for each other, they’d made a list of things they wanted to do together.  Although many items revolved around travel, Belle was certain that they could find a few things that they could accomplish without endangering Ciaran’s health.  If not, they’d just have to make a new list.

He hummed his approval of her idea.  "I hadn’t thought of that.”

Belle kissed his throat.  "You’re not the only one who can solve problems.“

Nimble fingers tickled her side, making her giggle.  "Self-satisfied minx.”

“We’ll go over the list after our nap,” Belle decided.  The sooner Ciaran had something to look forward to, the better.

“And after we get you unpacked.”  When Belle glanced up at him, Ciaran had the grace to look embarrassed.  "This room looks better with your things in it.“

Since they were both well aware of just whose fault it was that she’d moved out in the first place, Belle opted not to remind him.  "That suits me.  I missed our room.”

Ciaran pulled her closer with a contented sigh.  "It missed you too.“

She was just drifting into sleep when he spoke again.  "Oh, and I have your pearls for you.  You overlooked them when you left.”

“Tucked just behind the dresser where you were sure to see them and be reminded of me?  Oops.  I must have missed them.”

For an instant, Ciaran froze, then he started to laugh, the sound warm and open.  "And you call _me_ manipulative?“

"I learned from the best.”

Beneath the covers, he gave her rump a playful slap.  "I have never been more proud of you.  And I’m _very_ glad that you’re on my side.“

Belle basked in his praise and kissed his chest.  "Always.”  

And as long as that was true, they were going to be just fine.


	18. Chapter 18

Gold wrapped his arms around Belle and leaned down to rub his face against her hair, breathing her in.  He’d spent the last three weeks convincing himself that he would never again feel the warmth of her embrace or taste her sweet lips, and now that the awful truth had been revealed, he couldn’t quite believe that she was again here beside him in their bed.  

He’d treated her shamefully, and she’d forgiven him.  Gold closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer of gratitude to the universe that had given him such a generous partner.  He didn’t deserve a single kind word from Belle, but if she was willing to overlook his terrible error in judgement, he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.  Not for one moment would he allow Belle to regret giving him a second chance.  He would do everything in his power to make her happy in whatever time he had left, and he would fight this disease with every drop of strength in his body.  If he didn’t make it, it wouldn’t be because he’d given up.

Belle tugged the blankets over their legs, creating a cozy nest for them before she flipped open the notebook in her hands.  "Remember the night we wrote this?“

Gold sighed at the memory.  "Like it was yesterday.”

The first time they made love had been the most glorious night of his entire life.  He’d been utterly terrified, the echo of Milah’s cutting remarks warning him that he would never be able to please his precious Belle.  At best, he was certain to disappoint her.  At worst, Gold could clearly envision himself hurting her with his clumsy, brutish ways, destroying their fledgeling relationship before it even began.

Instead, Belle had responded to his every touch with joy, and when he reached the limits of his previous experience, she’d taught him everything he needed to know to bring her pleasure.  When she called his name at the height of her ecstasy, Gold had felt the armor plating that surrounded his heart break into a million pieces, leaving him vulnerable and raw, and she’d held him as he cried, whispering words of love.

He’d been reborn that night into a world that was exciting and new.  For too long, his life had been a dull and narrow thing, but now the possibilities were endless.  In the aftermath, they’d curled around each other, sharing dreams of what could be until Belle had hopped out of bed and gone to fetch a notebook for them to capture their ideas on paper.

Back then, there had been no reason to believe that they couldn’t do everything on their list, and it hurt to read the words they’d written with optimism flooding through their veins.  "Number one— Paris,“ he murmured.

"We’ll go after you get your transplant,” Belle said firmly.

“Yes, we will.”  If they both believed in the impossible with all of their might, maybe they could have a miracle.

Together, they read the first page of their list in silence.  They’d planned to do everything from seeing the pyramids to riding elephants in Africa, and Gold reached up to rub his aching chest, remembering how young he’d felt as they made their extravagant plans.

It wasn’t fair.

He took a deep breath, trying to push the anger down, but it refused to be suppressed.   _None_ of this was fair.  They were supposed to have an adventure, and instead, his body had betrayed him after only six months of happiness.  

Belle let the notebook drop into her lap as she rested her head against his shoulder and reached up to place her hand on top of his.  "Tell me what you’re thinking?“

"I _hate_ this.”  For the first time, he truly understood what Belle had meant when she told him she didn’t want to be angry with him.  If his time with her was limited, he wanted to enjoy every second of it, not waste it on regrets and anger, but he didn’t know how to stop.  This wasn’t what was supposed to happen, and he didn’t know how to forgive the universe for ruining everything.

“I want to take you to Paris.  I want to go to Antarctica and see the penguins with you.  I want to take you everywhere you’ve ever dreamed of seeing.  I promised you an adventure, not… not _this_.”  That was what hurt the most: not that he was trapped in Storybrooke, but that _she_ was.  Belle deserved the world, and he ached to give it to her.

“I want those things too, but I want _you_ more than I want to travel.  You’re enough for me, Ciaran.  Everything is an adventure if I’m doing it with you.”  Belle kissed his throat, lacing her fingers through his.  

He closed his eyes and concentrated on her words, trying to let himself believe them.  He’d underestimated Belle’s feelings for him before, and he’d nearly destroyed everything.  Now, he had to take her at her word.  She meant it.  As long as they were together, Belle would be happy.  

How could he be angry at a universe that had given him such an undeserved gift?

“I’d be happy sitting in a locked room with you,” he murmured.

“Same here.”  She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  "I think there’s probably some middle ground between Paris and a locked room though, don’t you think?“

Her arch tone made him chuckle.  Leave it to Belle to talk him off the ledge.  "Probably.”

He leaned down to kiss her nose, then he gently pulled his hand out of her grasp to pick up the notebook and turn the page.  "Number thirty-seven— Take a hot air balloon ride.“

"We could do that!”  Belle looked up at him, her eyes shining.  "There’s a balloon festival in Lewiston every summer.“

There was no telling what kind of shape he would be in by the time the balloon festival rolled around, but Gold vowed that unless he was knocking on death’s door, they’d have their balloon ride.  "Mark it on the calendar.  What else can we do?”

“Number forty-two— Go stargazing.  Number forty-five— Watch the sunrise at the beach.”  Belle drew tiny stars next to each number.

Gold flipped the page, feeling a little better.  "Number fifty-seven— Have a picnic.“

"Number sixty-one— Throw a dart at a map and visit wherever it lands.”  

When he opened his mouth to protest, Belle gave him a gentle nudge.  "There’s no reason it has to be a map of the world.  Why not a map of Maine or even of New England?  We could spend a day just exploring some random little town that we’d never see otherwise.“

At first brush, the idea seemed less than exciting, but the more he thought about it, the more Gold liked it.  Storybrooke had plenty of offbeat little nooks and crannies, and there was no reason not to think that every town wasn’t the same.  It wasn’t exactly Europe, but they could play tourist in their own backyard.  "I like it.”

“I do too.  And come on, _anyone_ can have an adventure in Paris.  It takes someone special to have one in Glenwood.”

Gold chuckled at her enthusiasm even as he realized that she was correct.  Their world would be as big or as small as they made it.  "If anyone could do it, it would be you, sweetheart.“

Belle snuggled into his side.  "We can have an adventure right here.  Together.”

A week ago, Gold had envisioned no more for himself than slowly wasting away in a rented cottage far from anyone who cared about him.  Now, with Belle at his side, he could see how short-sighted he’d been.  As long as his heart was beating, his life wasn’t over.  Maybe he and Belle wouldn’t be able to do everything they’d dreamed of, but there were still adventures to be had.  They just had to make the most of the opportunities available to them.

It did hurt to give up the proposal in Paris though.  

His mind continued to circle around that as they went through their list, putting stars next to the ideas that were still possible and adding more items once they reached the end.  They might not be able to see the northern lights, but they could spend a night sleeping under the stars.  They couldn’t lounge on a sunny beach drinking cocktails out of coconuts, but they could go whale watching.  

He couldn’t propose to Belle in Paris, but he could propose to her in Storybrooke.

The idea made him catch his breath, and Belle glanced up at him.  "Are you okay?“

"I just had an idea.  A surprise,” he clarified when she looked at him expectantly.

Belle’s brow furrowed.  "Tell me anyway?  I haven’t really liked your last few surprises.“

"Oh, sweetheart.”  He pulled her into his lap so he could nuzzle the side of her face.  "I promise you’ll like this one.  I’m going to do something nice for you.  You deserve it.“

He would need to enlist Dove’s help for this, but Gold was certain that the big man would be up to the task.  No doubt he would welcome the chance to help plan a lovely evening for Belle after everything Gold had forced him to put her through.  None of that had been Dove’s fault, but his employee didn’t think that way.  This would go a long way toward mitigating any remaining feelings of guilt that were bothering him.

That it would help assuage Gold’s own guilt was a pleasant side effect.

"Okay,” Belle said softly.  "I trust you.“

"Thank you, sweetheart.  You won’t be sorry.”  He didn’t deserve that trust, but he would make certain never to damage it again.  If he had anything to do with it, from now on the only surprises in Belle’s life would be happy ones, and his current idea was a good way to start.

If he couldn’t take Belle to Paris, he would bring Paris to Belle.


	19. Chapter 19

****He couldn’t breathe.

Gold jerked awake, his lungs straining as he struggled to inhale past the constriction in his throat.  It was like that day in the shop all over again, and this wasn’t _fair_.  He’d only just been reunited with Belle.  He couldn’t have another heart attack, not when he’d promised to outlive all of Whale’s expectations.  If he died in her arms the very first night, it would destroy her.

For a blessed moment, the constriction eased, and Gold sucked in a grateful breath, feeling Belle pressed against his side, her warm presence soothing him.  In her sleep, she made a small noise, and an instant later, his throat tightened again.

This time, the fog of sleep had lifted from his mind enough to allow him to identify the source of the problem.  Belle’s hand was clutching the collar of his pajama top, and her grip had unconsciously tightened, his beloved accidentally choking him in her sleep.

With a chuckle of relief at the discovery that he wasn’t dying, Gold reached up to pry her fingers loose, and Belle flailed, coming awake with a smothered cry.  

“ _What_?” she gasped, her eyes wild in the predawn light.

Gold pressed a reassuring kiss to the corner of her mouth as he removed her hand from his collar.  "A bit too tight, sweetheart.“

She blinked rapidly, awareness returning to her blue eyes as she took in the tableau.  With a groan, she dropped her head down onto his shoulder.  "Was I strangling you?”

“Just a bit.  I daresay that I deserve it, but I’d still rather you stopped.”  Gold laced his fingers through hers, bringing their clasped hands to rest comfortably against his chest.  "Isn’t that better?“

Belle laughed a little as she brushed her lips against his throat in apology.  "I’m sorry.  I must have been trying to hold onto you.  I guess I went overboard.”

Gold’s heart ached at the reminder of what he’d done to her.  Since he’d spent three weeks pushing her away, it made perfect sense that Belle’s subconscious felt the need to hang on.  He’d rocked the foundations of her life by taking everything away from her with no warning and no discussion— her job, her home, their relationship.  It was no wonder that she felt so unsteady, and he had no one to blame but himself.

“Oh, sweetheart, what I’ve put you through…” he murmured, cursing himself for the selfish stupidity that had led him to hurt her so badly.

“It’s over now.  You’re sorry, and you won’t do it again.”  With a few matter-of-fact words Belle brushed the past aside, and her generosity was far more than he deserved.

“Let me make it up to you,” he pleaded.  He could wait on her hand and foot for the rest of his life, anticipate her every need, and it still wouldn’t make amends for what he’d done.  

“Just tell me you love me and we’ll call it even,” Belle promised.

“I do,” he vowed.  "Sweetheart, I love you more than I could ever say.  You’re my world… my _everything_.  I know I don’t deserve you, but—"

“That will be _quite_ enough of that.”  Belle cut him off, her voice strict.

She leaned up to press a firm kiss against his lips.  "You are the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.  You’re so smart and so much fun to talk to.  You make me laugh.  You’re thoughtful and kind.  You deserve all the love in the world, and I consider myself lucky that I’m the one you want.“

Her words brought tears to Gold’s eyes.  After a lifetime of never being enough for anyone, of being shown over and over again that he was worthless, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that Belle really saw a man deserving of her love when she looked at him.  There was no way he could ever possibly be worthy of her, but if she thought he was, it would be the height of foolishness to argue with her.

Still, he couldn’t quite stop himself from correcting one mistake.  "I’m the lucky one, sweetheart.  You’re everything that I ever dreamed of.  Thank you for loving me.”

“Loving you is the easy part.”  Her fingers slipped into his hair to pull him down for a kiss, and Gold sighed against her lips as she melted into him.  It had been far too long since they were able to reaffirm their connection, and he could think of no better way to begin to make amends for his bad behavior than by spending the rest of the night worshipping Belle.  

She moaned when he eased her onto her back to give himself room to lavish her throat with kisses, feeling her pulse pounding beneath his lips.  Hungrily, he sucked at her skin, his hands tightening on her hips as he strove to maintain control.  He needed to keep himself in check so he could concentrate on her pleasure, but it was hard to remember that when he wanted to _devour_ her.  After weeks of thinking their relationship was over, he had Belle back in his arms, and it was time to start making up for lost time.

Slow and gentle, Gold reminded himself, struggling to slow down.  He was going to do every single thing that Belle liked, and hopefully, discover several dozen new things along the way.  After the agony he’d inflicted on her, it was the least he could do.  

“Ciaran?  Ciaran, stop.”  When she tugged on his hair to try to pull him away from her throat, Gold growled, fighting her off.  He didn’t _want_ to stop.  He wanted to please her, to give her so much pleasure that it completely overrode the pain.

“Ciaran!”

With a muffled gasp, Gold tore himself away from Belle’s throat, his chest heaving.  What was he _doing_?  Belle had forgiven him and come home, but she hadn’t said anything about resuming their sexual relationship.  They hadn’t even talked about it.  Instead, he’d made assumptions and forced himself on her, refusing to stop when she told him point-blank to do so.  What the hell was wrong with him?

“I’m sorry.  Belle, I’m _sorry_.”  Shaking, he moved away from her, trying to give her space on the bed.

To his surprise, she followed him, wrapping her arms around his waist.  "Hey… It’s okay.  Don’t be sorry.  It felt _amazing_.  Just… Did Whale say anything about this?  Is it safe for us to do this?“

Gold let out a long breath when he realized what the problem was.  Belle wasn’t rejecting the idea of sleeping with him.  She was worried about his health.

Casting his mind back to that initial appointment, Gold tried to remember exactly what Whale had said on the topic of sex.  Between the shock and the fear, most of that conversation was a blur, but he did remember a few key statements.

Unfortunately.

For a moment, Gold was tempted to lie and say that Whale had given them carte blanche to do as they pleased, a notion that he immediately rejected.   Nothing good had come of him lying to Belle, and he’d vowed never to do it again.  He wouldn’t break her trust a second time.

"He cautioned me against sex,” he admitted, wanting to rage at the universe.  Sex was only one part of his relationship with Belle, but it was a part that he enjoyed _very_ much.  Losing that physical connection was a high price to pay to maintain his health.

Belle’s grip tightened on him, his beloved surprisingly strong.  "Okay,“ she murmured.  "That’s okay.”

Gold wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair.  "I’m sorry.“

"It’s not your fault,” she assured him at once, her generosity bringing tears to his eyes.

It hurt to disappoint her far more than it hurt to know that he would never again know the joy of losing himself in her.  Gold’s mind raced as he tried to find a compromise.  "I can still please you though, sweetheart.  There’s plenty of things we can do.“

Instantly, she shook her head.  "I won’t risk you.”

“Belle…”  Gold buried his face in her hair, frustration with Whale and with the universe in general surging through him.  He _needed_ this.  He needed to prove, if only to himself, that he could still satisfy her.  He needed proof that his body wasn’t yet completely useless.

“Let me use my fingers,” he pleaded, feeling feverish with the need to do this for her.  "There’s no risk in that.  Let me please you, sweetheart.“

"It’s not fair if you don’t get to enjoy it too,” she protested.  

When Belle lifted her head to look at him, Gold caught her mouth in a desperate kiss.  "Please,“ he begged against her lips.  "Let me, sweetheart.  Let me make you come.”

Belle shivered in his arms, her nails glancing over the back of his neck.  "Ciaran…"

He rubbed his nose against hers.  "If you don’t want to, we won’t.  But if you’re afraid of being selfish… there’s nothing I would enjoy more than pleasing you. _I’m_ the selfish one.  I _want_ this.“

"You’re _sure_?” she asked, framing his face with her hands so she could look into his eyes.  "You’re not just doing this because you think you owe it to me?“

"I’m doing it because if I don’t hear you scream my name in the next ten minutes, I’m going to lose my mind,” he growled, his accent thick.

Belle let out a shuddering sigh, her eyes darkening.  "How do you want to do this?“

Gold’s mind nearly shorted out at the wondrous possibilities.  "Straddle me,” he finally managed to grit out as he pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, sensing that Belle would be leery about allowing him to do anything more athletic.  

When she moved to straddle his thighs, Gold sighed in bliss.  He could feel the heat of her through his pajama pants, and the urge to ignore all of Whale’s warnings and simply bury himself inside of her was all but overwhelming.  He had Belle back, and the last month felt like nothing more than a bad dream.

Belle wound her arms around his shoulders as she leaned in for a kiss.  "I love you,“ she murmured, her voice breaking.

"I love you,” he whispered back as he slipped his hand under the hem of her nightgown, groaning when he found her wet core.  "Oh, Belle… sweetheart…"

Once, it had taken all of his concentration to master the complex movements that made Belle shiver and moan, but after months of practice, the motions were practically second nature, allowing Gold the luxury of focusing on every flicker of Belle’s expression and every erotic hitch of her breath.  Nothing was more beautiful than the sight of his beloved lost in the throes of ecstasy.

He teased her shamelessly, stroking the sides of her sensitive nub and fluttering through her damp folds, never lingering in one place long enough to satisfy her.  With a grunt, Belle pressed herself against his chest, her hips rocking impatiently, and his eyes rolled back in his head at the delicious pressure against his straining cock.

That way lay madness.  In desperation, Gold plunged two fingers into her, and Belle let out a sharp cry, her channel clenching around his fingers so tightly that he could barely move.  "That’s it, sweetheart,“ he crooned.  "God, you’re so beautiful.  I love you so much.”

He curled his fingers, applying pressure against her upper wall as he teased her nub with his thumb, and Belle nearly ripped out a handful of his hair.  "Ciaran!“

"Yes, darling.  I’m here.  I’ve got you.  My beautiful Belle…”  He was panting, barely comprehensible as he babbled words of love and and praise.

“You’re so hot… so wet… I love being inside of you… You feel so good…. so _good_ , sweetheart… I love seeing you like this… so beautiful… so wild… oh, Belle… my Belle…”  In his arms, Belle was shaking, her face flushed and eyes glazed as he rubbed harder, trying to push her over the edge.

“Come for me, sweetheart… You can do it… Let it happen… Let yourself feel good…” he urged.  His own physical needs had receded into the background.  All of Gold’s attention was focused on Belle and the wonderful noises falling from her lips as she trembled and called out for him.  Her pleasure was his own, and he’d never felt closer to her.

When she cried out, her body clenching almost painfully around his fingers, Gold sighed as he nuzzled the side of her face, a wave of profound satisfaction washing over him.  He’d pleased Belle.  It didn’t matter what limitations his body was facing because he could still bring his beloved to the height of ecstasy.  As long as they could share this, nothing else mattered.

With a moan, Belle fell forward to rest her head against his shoulder, her body limp.  "Am I too heavy?“ she mumbled.

"You’re perfect.”  Giving into temptation, Gold lifted his wet fingers to his mouth, sighing in pleasure as he sucked on them, the taste of her filling his mouth.  "And delicious.“

"That was _incredible_ , Ciaran.”  Her throaty purr sent a jolt through him that went straight to his cock.  

“Could you…?”  Gold took Belle’s hand in his, guiding it to cup his hard length.  The warmth of her fingers comforted him, easing the ache.

“Oh, that’s _good_ ,” he groaned in relief.  

“Ciaran…”  

“It’s all right,” he assured her, hearing the wary note in her voice.  "This is all I need.“

His hips were twitching, his body seeking friction, but as Belle’s gentle touch soothed him, his body slowly relaxed, his cock softening and becoming quiescent once again.  

"Was that too much for you?” Belle asked softly.

He chuckled against her hair.  "Hardly.  I want to do it again immediately, preferably ten times a night.“

She snickered and gave his cock a gentle pat.  "Slow down there, tiger.  I think five times a night will suffice.”

Gold laughed helplessly, his spirit feeling light and free.  He slid lower in the bed, pulling Belle down beside him as he wrapped the blankets around them, creating a cozy cocoon.  "I’m going to call Whale tomorrow and find out just what exactly our restrictions are.“

That was certain to be an embarrassing conversation, but it was one well worth having.  If nothing else, it might set Belle’s mind at ease about him using his mouth on her.  

"Considering what you can do with just your _hands_ , I’m not sure I can take much more!” she giggled.

Feeling ridiculously proud of himself, Gold cuddled her closer.  He’d proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could satisfy Belle, something that he was self-aware enough to realize had worried him far more than it had worried her.  If he could still please her, his body wasn’t as useless as he’d feared.

Even if they could never make love again, they still had this, and this was enough.


	20. Chapter 20

_“Meet me at the warehouse at seven.  Wear something pretty.”_

Belle reread the note that she had discovered on Ciaran’s pillow when she woke that morning.  The man himself was nowhere to be found, but since the mug of tea on her nightstand was still steaming and the plate of croissants was still warm, he couldn’t have been gone long.  

Even though she’d already forgiven him, he was trying so _hard_ to make things up to her.  Every morning, Ciaran brought her breakfast in bed.  He took reams of notes on his condition and set alarms on his phone so he took every pill at exactly the right time.  He drank endless glasses of water and followed the diet Dr. Whale had recommended to the letter.  Always a generous lover, he’d become religiously devoted to her pleasure over the past week.

And now the note.

Belle chewed on her bottom lip as she placed the note carefully in her coat pocket and looked at the warehouse’s door.  It was five minutes to seven, and although she was certain that Ciaran wouldn’t mind if she was early, she knew him well enough to know that he was almost certainly still putting the finishing touches on whatever it was that he was planning.  It was like him to fuss until the very last minute.

She smiled to herself as she regarded the unmarked door set in the warehouse’s plain walls.  Four years ago, had Mr. Gold asked her to meet him here she would have been terrified, suspicious that he was planning to drug her and harvest her internal organs for sale on the black market.  That was before she’d met him, back when he was nothing more to her than the beast of Storybrooke.  

Now that she knew Ciaran, it was hard to believe that she’d ever thought him capable of such horrible things.  By the end of her first week as his housekeeper, Belle had known that she’d been a fool to believe the town’s dire warnings about him.  She couldn’t even remember the last time that she’d been afraid of him.  Now, she was afraid _for_ him.

Ciaran couldn’t die.  He just couldn’t.

Taking a deep breath, Belle tried to let her fears go.  Worrying about the future would do nothing but distract her from the joys of the present.  Right now, Ciaran was waiting for her behind that door, and he had a surprise that he swore up and down that she would like.  Whatever it was, he’d put a tremendous amount of effort into planning it, and she needed to relax and enjoy the moment.  For now, he was with her, and if there came a day when that wasn’t true, she would need all the happy memories she could get to survive his loss.

At exactly seven, she opened her car door, shivering at the cold blast of late fall air as she made the short walk to the warehouse’s door and rapped on it.  It opened almost instantly to reveal Ciaran dressed in his best suit and a light gray shirt that he’d paired with the blue paisley tie that was her favorite of his vast collection.

“Belle,” he murmured as he stepped back, inviting her in from the cold, and there was a look on his face that she couldn’t remember ever seeing before— something hesitant and nervous and hopeful.

“Hey,” she whispered, the breath catching in her throat as she stepped into his arms to greet him with a kiss.  There was no reason Ciaran should ever be nervous around her.

His embrace was sure, his kiss firm, and by the time their lips parted, he was smiling, the odd look banished.  "Hey.“

When she stepped back to shrug off her coat, his eyes went wide at the sight of the teal dress she’d chosen for the night.  The demure neckline and modest silhouette were playfully undermined by the pair of diamond-shaped cutouts at her waist, but she had a feeling that it was the sight of the pearl necklace she’d chosen to wear with it that made Ciaran’s eyes darken.  He’d always loved that particular piece of jewelry.

"You look beautiful,” he told her, his voice husky as he hung her coat next to his own on a coat tree that had never been there before.

Belle blinked, looking away from Ciaran for the first time to find herself in a small foyer that had been created with wooden screens, preventing her from seeing the rest of the warehouse.  "What are we doing here?“

Ciaran smiled as he offered her his arm with storybook chivalry.  "I told you I had a surprise for you.”

Already, Belle liked this surprise far better than the last few.  Still, she had a feeling she’d like it even more once she understood what was happening.  "But what is it?“ she pressed.

The nervous expression flickered once more over Ciaran’s face.  "I can’t take you to Paris.”

Belle clutched his arm, hating that he was still obsessing about this.  Paris had been a beautiful dream, but as long as she had him, she didn’t _need_ Paris.  All she needed was him.  "Ciaran, no.  Please stop worrying about that.  I don't—"

He lifted his index finger to her lips, gently silencing her.  "So, I decided to bring Paris to you.“

When he led her around the screen, Belle gasped.  The interior of the warehouse had been transformed.  The boxes and clutter had been cleared away, and in their place was… Paris.

One wall had become a museum, hung with reproductions of some of the paintings she’d most longed to see.  The far corner was strung with lights, potted plants shielding a round metal table and two chairs, looking for all the world like a Parisian sidewalk cafe.  Another corner was bursting with flowers and adorned with sculpture, a scaled down recreation of the Musée Rodin.  In the background, a recording of Debussy’s _Clair de Lune_ played softly, and in an optical illusion that could only have been created by Dove, the Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance.

A sob escaped her lips, and Belle didn’t even try to hold it back, tears running down her cheeks to ruin her careful makeup.  They were standing in a drafty warehouse on Storybrooke’s waterfront, but they were also standing in the middle of their own personal Paris.  Ciaran couldn’t take her to their dream city, so instead, he’d brought it to her.

"Belle?  Oh, Belle, please don’t cry.  I’m sorry.  I thought you’d like it.  I meant it to be a surprise… something nice.”  Ciaran sounded like he was on the verge of tears himself as he wrapped his arm around her, trying to turn her back toward the door.

Unable to speak, Belle threw her arms around his neck, hearing his cane clatter to the floor as he embraced her in return.  No matter how many times she assured him that she didn’t need Paris, he hadn’t been able to let it go, and this was the result.  Instead of sinking into despair that he couldn’t give her everything he wanted to, he’d made the best of his illness and created this beautiful compromise.  They were still in Storybrooke, but he’d given her Paris.

“I love you,” she choked against his collar.  "I love you so much.  It’s beautiful.  It’s _so_ beautiful.  Ciaran… oh, Ciaran…"

In her arms she could feel him relax as he rubbed her back soothingly.  "I love you too.“

He held her until she cried herself out, then offered her his pocket square so she could mop up.  "I thought I upset you— reminded you what you couldn’t have by offering you this substitute.”

“It’s _better_ than the real thing,” Belle insisted, meaning the words from the bottom of her heart.  "You _made_ it for me.“

Ciaran’s smile was small and pleased.  "Well… Dove helped a little.”

Belle let out a watery chuckle.  "I want to see everything.  Show me Paris… _our_ Paris.“

"Our Paris,” he murmured in wonder before stooping to reclaim his cane.  Once it was safely in his hand again, he offered her his arm.  "Shall we go to the Louvre?“

It was like something out of a dream.  Arm in arm, she and Ciaran strolled the halls of the Louvre, admiring the art.  They wandered the grounds of the Musée Rodin, breathing in the fragrance of the flowers amidst priceless sculpture.  Finally, worn out from their adventure, they retreated to a private table at a charming sidewalk cafe, savoring bites of roast lamb and sips of champagne in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.

"It’s even more beautiful than I dreamed it would be,” Belle sighed as she leaned back in her chair and just drank in the feeling of being with the man she loved in this magical place.

Across the table, Ciaran was gazing at her, his face soft with happiness and love.  "Oh, Belle…"

“Thank you for bringing me here.”  Her entire life, she’d dreamed of seeing Paris, and Ciaran had given her that dream and so much more.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, the nervous expression flickering across his face again.

Belle held her breath as Ciaran moved from his seat to kneel at her feet, his bad leg making his movements stiff and awkward.  Instinctively, she caught his arm to help him keep his balance, her mind whirling as she tried not to make any guesses as to what was about to happen.  If she was wrong, the disappointment might kill her.

“I’ve wanted to ask you this for so long,” he began, his brown eyes liquid and dark.  "I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you.  My life was so dark, so empty, before I met you.  You stepped into my house and brought light and joy with you.  The last three years have been the happiest of my life, and when you told me that you love me…"

Ciaran shuddered, a tear trickling down his cheek.  "Oh, sweetheart… No matter what happens, I have had a _wonderful_ life because you love me.  I don’t know how much time I have left, but I want to spend every single moment with you.“

Her breath coming fast, Belle framed his face with her hands, unable to look away from his eyes even as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.  "Will you marry me, Belle?”

“Yes!” she gasped almost before he’d finished speaking.  "Oh, Ciaran, _yes_.  I love you.  I fell in love with you that first month, and no matter what happens, I will treasure every minute we have together.“

Their lips came together in a kiss that didn’t quite work.  He was crying as she laughed breathlessly, their mouths sliding against each together, unable to find the perfect angle.  It was the most beautiful kiss of Belle’s life.

She slipped off her chair to join him on the floor, winding her arms around his neck as they tried again, their mouths fusing.  When she tried to pull him down on top of her, Ciaran fended her off, breaking the kiss with a gasp.  "Your ring.”

Panting, Belle watched in amazement as he slipped the exquisite diamond onto her fourth finger.  Once it was in place, Ciaran simply held her hand as he stared down, his eyes wide.  "You’re wearing my ring.“

"I’ll never take it off,” she promised.  "It’s _beautiful_ , Ciaran.  I love it.  I love _you_.“

He let out a breathless laugh.  "I’ve had it for years.  I’ve dreamed of this for so long, sweetheart.”

For an instant, Belle wanted to ask why he’d waited so long but swallowed the words back.  For three years, they’d been friends when they could have been more, but that time hadn’t been wasted.  They’d spent it learning each other inside and out, building a solid foundation that nothing could crack, and now they were here— in love in their own private Paris.

“It’s real,” she assured him, sensing that he might need to hear it.  "It’s not a dream any more.  We’re going to be married.“

"I wanted to ask you here… in Paris,” he confessed.

Belle sighed, finally understanding why he hadn’t been able to let their dream trip go.  The entire time they’d been making lists of everything they wanted to see and do, he’d been planning to propose, and when their trip fell apart, he must have felt all of his plans collapsing as well.

She slid her fingers into his hair, tilting his head back so she could brush her lips against his.  "I’m so glad you did.“

He melted against her with a sob, and Belle pressed her hand against his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath her palm, still strong.  She refused to allow herself to wonder how long that would be true.

Instead, she stroked his hair, murmuring to him until he stopped crying, and in the aftermath, the pair of them curled up together as they gazed at the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance.  

Ciaran took her left hand in his and lifted it to his mouth for a kiss, tracing the outline of her ring with his lips.  "Is Paris everything you dreamed?” he asked softly.

Belle turned her face to kiss his throat.  "It’s better.“


	21. Chapter 21

Gold shifted awkwardly in his seat.  He and Whale were meeting in the privacy of the doctor’s office instead of an impersonal exam room, but even that felt too exposed for the conversation they were about to have.  For the first forty-eight years of his life, Ciaran Gold had prided himself on never telling anyone anything.  His private thoughts were just that: his.  When Belle came into his life, he’d learned how good it felt to share his inner world with someone else, but taking to anyone except her still felt unnatural and vaguely threatening.

Unfortunately, he needed information, and obtaining that information meant opening up to Whale.  "Is sex completely out of the question?"

When Whale smirked at him, Gold realized he could have found a better way to phrase that.

"Well, you’re not really my type, but I’m willing to be persuaded,” the doctor purred, batting his eyelashes.

Gold sat like a statue, not sure if Whale was mocking him or responding seriously.  He wasn’t sure which option he liked less.

After a moment, the doctor burst into laughter.  "I wish you could see the look on your face!"

Gold continued to glare at him, but the scowl made no discernible impression on Whale.  The doctor continued to chuckle, chiding, "Oh come on.  Laughter is the best medicine.”

“Then what am I paying you for?” Gold groused.

“Fine…”  The doctor sighed and shook his head.  "You wanted to talk about sex."

At this point, Gold wanted to do no such thing, but if he wanted to make love to his fiancée, this conversation was a necessary evil.  "Belle and I are engaged,” he began, trying to start over.

He couldn’t help but smile as he said the words, the memory of his proposal and her delighted acceptance washing away any lingering embarrassment with a wave of pure joy.  After everything he’d put her through, Belle had agreed to be his wife.

“That’s _wonderful_.  Congratulations!”  Whale beamed at him, the doctor apparently sincerely pleased by the news.

The other man’s genuine enthusiasm thawed Gold slightly.  "Yes, well… thank you."

"Just for the record, if I’m not invited, I will never forgive you,” the doctor informed him.  "Have you set a date yet?"

"Not yet.  I suppose sooner is better than later.”  With his ticking time bomb of a heart, the wedding couldn’t come soon enough.  Gold wasn’t sure if he would live six more months or six more years, but he wanted to spend every minute he had left as Belle’s husband.

Whale gave him a sympathetic look.  "You can’t lose hope.  Your blood type is rare, but it’s not one of a kind.  We don’t know what will happen."

"I’ll never give up.”  With Belle to live for, Gold would fight for every second of life he could get.

“So, no more of this ‘My life is not precious to me’ crap?”  Whale lifted a challenging eyebrow.

The memory of his own stupidity made Gold cringe.  How could he have been so careless with Belle’s heart and his own life?  "I was a fool."

Whale nodded his approval.  "I’m glad you realize that.  I was worried about you.”

Gold was surprised to realize that the doctor meant it.  Whale had been concerned for him, not as an intractable patient, but as a fellow human being, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge.  Honest friendship wasn’t something he had much experience with.  Belle was the only friend he’d ever had, and he couldn’t envision his relationship with Whale following the same trajectory.  For one thing, Whale wasn’t nearly as attractive.  "I believe I’ve come to my senses."

" _Good_."  The doctor clapped his hands briskly.  "All right then.  Sex.”

“You cautioned me against it,” Gold reminded him.  His memories of that initial appointment were foggy, but he clearly remembered that particular injunction.

“I did.”  Whale leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, as if the acoustic tiles held answers.

“Here’s the thing,” he said after a minute.  "This is a gray area.  If you asked a hundred doctors, some of them would tell you not to even think about it, and some of them would tell you to do whatever you want, and everyone else would be in the middle somewhere.  No two answers would be the same."

Gold wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.  He’d never had much tolerance for ambiguity.  Then again, if there was a doctor out there who would give his blessing to have as much sex with Belle as he wanted, he might just have to get a second and third and fourth opinion until he found that doctor.  "I see.”

“Sex is a basic human need,” Whale continued, his voice earnest.  "I’m not comfortable telling you that you have to deny yourself.  Gentle exercise is _good_ for you.  At the same time, you don’t want to tax your heart either."

The doctor sighed.  "I suppose my professional advice is use common sense, but when you’re madly in love with a gorgeous woman, common sense goes right out the window.  Just don’t do anything stupid, all right?  Nothing too athletic.  No swinging from the chandeliers.  If you experience discomfort or heart palpitations, _stop_.”

Whale wasn’t exactly giving his blessing to do whatever they wanted, but the doctor was being more lenient than Gold had feared.  He’d take it.  "Is oral sex safe?"

When Whale raised his eyebrows, Gold cleared his throat and shamelessly passed the buck.  "Belle wanted to know.”

“Giving or receiving?” the doctor asked, his lips twitching.

There was absolutely no way he could answer that question, and eventually Whale took pity on him.  "As long as there are no mitigating factors— STI’s, yeast infections— you’re fine.  If there’s any doubt, use a dental dam.  The last thing you need to do is catch something."

From the sound of Whale’s lecture, his days of spending entire weekends in bed with Belle, pausing only long enough to grab a snack from the kitchen, were over, and Gold took a moment to mourn their passing.  On the other hand, he’d walked into this appointment expecting Whale to forbid them to do anything at all, so he opted to be grateful the doctor was giving them as much leeway as he was.  "Thank you.”

“One more thing.”  Whale leaned forward in his chair, his expression serious.  "Your body knows what it’s capable of.  Listen to it.  There will be times when you can't… perform.  That’s a symptom of your illness, not a reflection on your manhood.  Don’t freak out, and don’t try to force anything."

Despite Whale’s assurance, just the thought made Gold cringe.  While he had his fair share of issues, _that_ had never been one of them, and the idea was disheartening.  "I understand.”

“Have the two of you given any thought to children?” the doctor asked, mercifully changing the subject.

That was something he and Belle had never discussed, but the instant Whale suggested the idea, Gold’s mind caught fire, his imagination displaying a series of images in rapid succession:  Belle, her body lush and round with his child; the pair of them cooing over a tiny bundle; a little boy with his eyes and Belle’s smile.  He could imagine everything so clearly that it seemed impossible that it wasn’t already a reality, and his throat ached with longing for his vision to come true.

“Because if that’s something you want, I can help you,” Whale added.

Gold cleared his throat.  "I think I’d rather handle that project myself," he snarked, trying to disguise how vulnerable he suddenly felt.

The doctor chuckled.  "See?  You do have a sense of humor.  I was wondering.”

He grinned at Gold until he managed a weak smile in return, then returned to the topic at hand.  "I don’t blame you for wanting to do things the old fashioned way.  I’m just saying that if you have any trouble conceiving or if you want to freeze some of your genetic material for later down the road, you have a lot of options.  I’ll put some paperwork together for you, and you and Belle can talk about it."

Whale was being tactful, but the doctor’s words reminded him that there would come a time when the old fashioned way wasn’t an option.  If they took Whale up on his offer, Belle could conceive a child when he was too weak to participate, and Gold wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  Was it fair to father a child that he probably wouldn’t live to raise?  

No child could have a better mother than Belle.  If the worst happened, he would be leaving a part of himself with her.  By giving her a baby, he would be cementing his place in her life for the rest of eternity, even if this disease claimed him within the year.  Belle would tell their child stories about its papa and make sure the baby knew that it had been loved and wanted, even if Papa wasn’t there to watch it grow up.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Whale interrupted his train of thought.

“No.  No, that was everything.”  Gold swallowed a sigh.  He and Belle were going to have to have a very serious conversation in the near future.

Whale’s eyes crinkled.  "Then I won’t keep you.  I’m sure you’re in a hurry to get home.  Just remember what I said: no swinging from the chandeliers."

Once, having someone else comment on his sex life would have felt like a gross invasion of privacy, but something in his relationship with Whale had shifted over the past hour.  The doctor wasn’t taking a prurient interest in his bedroom activities.  Rather, Gold had the feeling that the other man was rooting for him.  

"No chandeliers,” he agreed as he pushed himself to his feet.

He accepted Whale’s farewell handshake and turned to the door, pausing just long enough to toss a parting remark over his shoulder, “But you didn’t say anything about handcuffs.”

The doctor’s laugh followed him out the door, and Gold found himself smiling, feeling lighter in his own skin.  He felt like he’d made a friend today, but even more importantly, Whale had given him his blessing to make love to Belle.  

As he made his way to the waiting Cadillac, Gold couldn’t suppress the urge to whistle.  Yes, he and Belle were going to have to have some serious conversations, but they didn’t have to do it today.  Today was reserved for more important things.

They had quite a lot of lost time to make up for.


	22. Chapter 22

With a huff, Belle let her book fall to her lap, unable to concentrate on its pages.  She’d been looking forward to getting her hands on Charlie Holmberg’s latest novel for the past month, but she’d read the first page a dozen times, and she still had no idea what it said.

Once again, her gaze went to the living room’s grandfather clock, finding that only three minutes had passed since she last checked the time.  Not that it really mattered.  She had no idea how long Ciaran’s appointment with Dr. Whale was supposed to be, and therefore, she had no idea when she should expect him to return.

She should have gone with him.

Belle slumped back against the sofa and glared at the ceiling.  Since Ciaran had transferred his medical power of attorney from Midas to her, she probably could have insisted on attending the appointment, but Ciaran had been working so _hard_ to regain her trust that she didn’t want to make him feel like she was checking up on him.  He would be honest when he reported whatever Whale had to say back to her because he knew that if he wasn’t, there would be hell to pay.  More importantly, he knew that nothing the doctor said would be a deal-breaker for her.  Nothing would tear her from Ciaran’s side even if Whale decided that they were never allowed to do so much as kiss again.

Nothing was more important than Ciaran’s health, not even their sex life.  

The thought of that sex life made Belle flush as she looked down at the engagement ring sparkling on her finger.  Ciaran was a creative man, and he’d found endless ways to bring her pleasure since their reunion, but she missed the bliss of having him inside of her and feeling that ultimate connection.  Even though she and Ciaran had made love hundreds of times over the course of their relationship, she’d never made love to him when he was her fiancé, and she couldn’t help but begrudge the universe for that.

Hopefully, Dr. Whale would have good news for them.  Hard as this was on her, Belle knew that it was a thousand times harder on Ciaran.  Even though he’d been trying to stay positive since the scare that landed him in the hospital and precipitated their reunion, she knew that he was angry and frightened by his body’s betrayal.  He needed the warmth and comfort that he could only find in her arms to reassure him.

When the front door opened, Belle leaped to her feet, sending her book flying.  The spine cracked as it landed face down on the floor, the pages folding over themselves in a way that was certain to pain any book-loving heart.  

It was evidence of how worried Belle was that she didn’t even give the fallen book a second glance as she padded on bare feet to meet Ciaran in the foyer.  "How did it go?“

He was trying to keep his expression blank, but Belle wasn’t blind to the twinkle in his eye.  Whatever Whale had to say, at least some of it had been good news, and that twinkle made her stomach curl with anticipation.

Without a word, Ciaran reached out to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against him, his mouth coming down over hers in a firm kiss as his hands explored her curves.  He’d grown so much more confident in his ability to please her since the first time they did this, and Belle thrilled at his touch even though he was ignoring her question.

When he broke away, Ciaran rested his forehead against hers, panting against her lips.  "Let’s go upstairs.”

Much as she wanted to grab him by the tie and lead him straight to their bed, Belle’s curiosity refused to be stifled.  Besides, she was cautious enough to want to know _exactly_ what the doctor had said before they did anything.  Ciaran wouldn’t lie to her, but she wouldn’t put it past him to zero in on Whale telling him ‘Yes, you can make love’ without paying attention to any terms and conditions the doctor put on their bedroom activities.  He could be single-minded like that.

“Tell me first.”

Undaunted, Ciaran seized her hand and headed for the stairs.  "According to him, gentle exercise is good for my heart.  He said to use common sense— nothing too athletic, no swinging from the chandeliers.“

The doctor was giving them more leeway than Belle had expected.  If gentle sex was all they were allowed, that was enough to satisfy her.  "That’s wonderful!  Was there anything else?”

Ciaran flinched a little at her question, and Belle caught her breath.  She should have known that it couldn’t be that easy.  

As soon as they reached their bedroom, she pulled him over to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress before tugging him down beside her.  "Tell me.“

"He advised me to listen to my body.  And that there will be times when I can't… perform.”  Ciaran’s mouth twisted as he said the words.

Belle, who’d been expecting worse, nearly laughed with relief.  "I thought you were going to tell me something terrible.  We can work with that.“

"Impotence isn’t terrible?” he asked, his voice dry.

Men worried far too much about what their cocks could and could not do.  "It’s a temporary inconvenience at worst.  I don’t care what your body does.  You’re still the man I love.“

"Oh, Belle…” Ciaran sighed, but he was smiling as he cradled her face in his hands and leaned down for a kiss.

“Is that everything?”  If it was, she was eager to see just how far _common sense_ could get them.

“Nearly.  He informed me that oral sex is fine.”  Ciaran gave her a lascivious look that made her giggle.

The look faded, turning into something soft and thoughtful as he continued, “And he asked if we wanted children.”

“Oh,” Belle breathed.  Considering the reason for today’s appointment, she probably should have seen that coming, but somehow, the thought had never crossed her mind.

“He offered to freeze some of my genetic material just in case I…  Anyway, he said he’d put some information together for us.”  Ciaran scooted back to lean against the headboard, taking her with him.

Belle rested her head against his shoulder, her heart racing as she thought about the possibilities.  She’d always assumed that children would be a part of her future, but she’d never expected to have to make any kind of decision about that so soon.

“Belle?”  Ciaran’s voice was soft.  "Do you want children?“

"I… do,” she said carefully, not sure what that meant for them.  She’d envisioned spending years having adventures with Ciaran before they added a child to their family, but with his heart condition, they might not have enough time for that.

At her core, Belle was an optimist.  It was her nature to assume that everything would work itself out for the best.  However, it would be foolish not to recognize that there was a thin line between optimism and denial.  Much as she wanted to believe that Ciaran would find a new heart, the odds against that happening were astronomical.  Next year at this time, he might be gone.  

If she got pregnant now and the worst happened, Ciaran would probably live long enough to see his child born, but it was unlikely that he would be there to celebrate the baby’s first birthday.  Much as Belle hated to even think about that possibility, it would be irresponsible not to consider that she might be left as a single mother.

Their lives were already in upheaval due to his diagnosis.  Should they even consider complicating matters by bringing a baby into things?  If his health declined, would she be able to care for him if she was heavily pregnant?  Could she take care of him and a newborn at the same time?  The timing couldn’t be worse, but if they waited, they might run out of time altogether.

“Do you?” she asked, realizing that it didn’t matter what she wanted if Ciaran was opposed to the idea of fathering a child he might not live long enough to raise.  On this issue, there could be no compromise.  Both of them had to be on the same page.

“Aye,” he said at once, although he didn’t look happy about it.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” she requested softly as she nestled closer.

Ciaran laced their fingers together.  "I want to give you a baby.  I want to be a father, to raise our child with you.  I want to teach him to walk and talk and ride a bicycle and watch him grow up and get married and give us grandchildren to spoil.  But I don’t know if any of that is possible.  Even if you got pregnant today, I might not live to meet him.  I know that.“

He clutched her hand a little tighter.  "But I still want it.  If I die, I want to leave a part of myself with you so you won’t be alone, so that you’ll remember me.  That’s probably selfish.”

Belle’s throat ached at the pain in his voice.  "I could never forget you.“

"I know.”  He nuzzled his face against her hair.  "I just…"

He didn’t really doubt her love for him.  With the possible end of his life staring him in the face, Ciaran felt the need to leave some kind of mark on the world, and fathering a child was a form of immortality, a guarantee that his memory would live on even if he himself did not.

She understood where he was coming from, but the decision to have a child shouldn’t be made from a position of fear.  Belle wanted to believe that Ciaran would be just fine, that his illness was nothing more than a speed bump in their journey.  If they rushed their timeline and had a baby now, would they regret it later?

Try as she might, Belle couldn’t imagine that they would. The two of them would adore and dote on any child they created, no matter how inconvenient the timing of its arrival.  On the other hand, if Ciaran died without giving her a child to comfort her in her grief, she wasn’t sure she would be able to live with the choice they’d made.

Was that a good enough reason to have a baby?

If the unthinkable happened and Ciaran only lived for another year, they needed to pack as much living into that year as they possibly could.  They’d wanted to have an adventure.  A baby was certainly that.

“I think we should do it,” she said, surprised by how sure she sounded.  "I’ll stop taking the pill, and we’ll see what happens.  And I think we should take Dr. Whale up on his offer as an insurance policy.  Better to have more options than fewer.“

"You’re certain?” Ciaran asked, his voice shaking.  "You’re not saying that just because it’s what I want?  You want this too?“

"I’ve never wanted anything more.  I’ve _always_ wanted to have your baby, Ciaran.”  Every fantasy she’d ever had about their life together ended the same way— with her and Ciaran happily married and raising a family of their very own.  True, she usually imagined them having adventures before they got to that point, but the universe seemed to have other plans.

Ciaran’s lips trembled at her bold declaration.  "You have?“

"Always.”  She twined her fingers through his shaggy hair to tug his head down and seal the vow with a kiss.  

“I want us to have a girl,” he said breathlessly.  "A little girl who looks just like you.“

Belle’s heart ached as she pictured Ciaran cradling their baby daughter.  "Why not a little boy who looks just like _you_?”

Ciaran pulled a face at that suggestion.  "Don’t do that to the poor child.“

"You’re _beautiful_ ,” Belle reminded him.  He had his flaws, but Ciaran Gold was a beautiful man— inside and out.

“Twins,” he relented.  "One of each.“

"That _would_ be convenient.”  Now that the decision was made, it felt inevitable.  They were going to have a baby, and if her pregnancy made things complicated, they would muddle through together.

As long as they were together, everything would be fine.

“I’ll make an appointment with Whale to get our insurance policy into place.”  Ciaran’s mouth twisted.  "Hopefully we won’t need it.  I would _much_ prefer to do this the old fashioned way.“

Belle’s stomach flipped over at the thought of what doing this the old fashioned way would entail.  Even if they had to be careful not to overtax Ciaran’s heart, she had a feeling that they were going to enjoy this project immensely.

"Maybe we should practice,” she suggested as she slid her hand over his chest to take hold of the knot of his tie, astounded at the sultry note that had crept into her voice.

Ciaran swallowed hard.  "That’s an _excellent_ idea.  It’s been weeks.  I might be rusty.“

The look in his dark eyes made her breath catch in her throat.  "I think it’ll come back to you.  It’s like riding a bike.”

“Never was much good at that,” he muttered, and Belle was willing to bet that Ciaran didn’t even know what he was saying.

“Your talents lie in other areas,” she suggested as she started to undo the knot of his tie.

Ciaran was going to live.  Belle believed that with every fiber of her being because the alternative was too horrifying to contemplate.  She didn’t know how to live in a world that didn’t have Ciaran Gold in it, therefore he was going to get a new heart and live forever.  They were going to have adventures and get married and have a baby and do everything that they’d ever dreamed of doing.  If they didn’t do those things in the order they’d envisioned, what difference did it make?

She was going to have Ciaran’s baby.

Belle giggled against his lips, feeling like her blood was fizzing in her veins at the thought.  They were going to have a baby, and in a few years when Ciaran had fully recovered, they would take their child to Paris and every other place they’d put on their list.

When Ciaran broke away to give her a puzzled look, Belle curled her fingers in his hair to keep him close.  "I’m just thinking we’re going to need a lot of practice.“

The wolfish grin he gave her made Belle’s stomach flip over as she tugged him down on top of her.  "No time like the present,” he mumbled against her lips.

She’d never agreed with him more.  No matter what the future held in store for them, they had the present.  They were going to make the most of it.


	23. Chapter 23

"There's no time like the present," Gold mumbled against Belle's lips, thrilling to the thought of what they were about to do.  The idea of getting Belle pregnant appealed to a dark, primal place in his psyche that he hadn't been aware of until this moment.  Now, however, it was making itself emphatically known.

He groaned into Belle’s mouth as she tugged him down on top of her, desire flooding him until it washed away all of his lingering worries about his condition.  There was no room in his world for anything except the delicious softness of Belle’s body under him and the feel of her tongue lightly teasing his own.  Fear had no place in this bed.  The future was a distant and hazy thing.  Belle was his present, and he had no attention to spare for anything except her.

Since their reunion, he’d been telling himself that he would be content to do nothing except pleasure her if Dr. Whale thought it was too risky for them to resume their bedroom activities.  Now, with Belle’s hands stroking the length of his spine before reaching down to playfully squeeze his arse, Gold couldn’t imagine how he’d ever thought he’d be able to resist her.  It would be worth the risk of dying to be inside of her one more time.

As far as Gold was concerned, there were _far_ worse ways to die than mid-coitus, but Belle was unlikely to agree.  If anything went wrong during this encounter, she might well never let him try again for fear of his health.  Therefore, he needed to be careful.  

With that in mind, Gold eased himself off of her, sitting back so he could catch his breath and give his heart a chance to slow down.  Instantly, worry shadowed Belle’s face.  "Are you okay?“

"I’m fine,” he assured her, taking a moment to take stock of his body and make sure that he was telling the truth.  His breath was coming fast, his heart pumping briskly, but that owed more to excitement and arousal than it did to his condition.  If he didn’t know he was dying, there was nothing about this moment that would give him cause for concern.  He felt fine.

“I was just thinking that we’re overdressed.”  Hungry for the touch of Belle’s hands on his bare skin, Gold reached to finish undoing the tie that she’d already pulled loose, stopping when Belle batted at him.

“I want to do it,” she told him with a pretty pout he couldn’t resist kissing.

Belle allowed it for only a moment before she pushed him back down onto the bed and went up on her knees beside him so she had room to undress him.  An instant later, his tie was gone and she was making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re making me work for it today,” she giggled as she pulled his dress shirt open to reveal the white cotton T-shirt he’d chosen to wear underneath.

Gold flushed.  He hadn’t bothered with an undershirt in years, but considering the reason for his meeting with Whale, he’d felt the need to have as many layers around him as he could get.  "Sorry.“

Belle leaned down to kiss his chin.  "Don’t be.  I don’t mind if you wear your armor.  I like unwrapping my favorite present.”

She understood perfectly, and the flash of embarrassment faded, leaving him feeling loose and relaxed.  "I’m your favorite present?  Even better than your ring?“

"It’s beautiful, but I would have been just as happy with a ring made out of a twisty-tie as long as you were the one who gave it to me.”  Belle coaxed him to sit up so she could get the dress shirt off of him and pull his T-shirt over his head.

Once he was bare-chested, Belle rested her hand over his heart as she leaned down to kiss him, her movement casual and careless.  Gold wasn’t fooled for an instant.  She was checking his heart rate, verifying that he wasn’t overdoing it.

Much as he appreciated her care, he didn’t want thoughts of his illness hanging over them right now.  He deepened the kiss, flickering his tongue over the roof of her mouth, then took advantage of her distraction to flip her over.  "My turn to unwrap.“

"Greedy,” she chided, but she was laughing, the shadows in her eyes banished.

As he tugged down her zipper, Gold could appreciate Belle’s earlier sentiment.  It was a delight to slowly undress her, baring creamy skin that made his mouth go dry.  No one else got to see Belle like this.  He alone was the recipient of her love and trust and desire, and that was the greatest gift any man could ever receive.  

“Oh, sweetheart…” he rumbled as he lowered his head to kiss her breasts, loving the way she tugged at his hair.  

He could have spent hours feasting on her, reveling in the contrast between the soft mounds of her breasts and the way her nipples hardened into tight buds against his tongue.  With a growl, he lashed one with his tongue before hollowing his cheeks to suck, an image flickering through his mind of Belle cradling their child and giving their baby sustenance with her own glorious body.

The beautiful picture brought tears to his eyes, his breath catching in his throat.  He had to live long enough to see that image come to life.  He _had_ to.

“Hey…”  Belle cradled the back of his head as she eased him away from her, coaxing him to lie back.  "Are you okay?  What’s wrong?“

Her eyes were dark with worry, and Gold tried to smile as he reached up to touch her face.  "I was thinking about how beautiful you’re going to look when you’re holding our baby.”

“ _Oh_ …”  Belle caught his hand in hers and brought it to her lips.  

“I can’t wait to see you pregnant.”  With his free hand, he touched her stomach, letting himself pretend that their baby was already growing inside of her.  Nothing would be more beautiful than seeing her grow lush and round with their child, and Gold vowed that this sickness wouldn’t steal a single one of those precious moments from them.

“Will you still want me when I’m as big as a house?” Belle asked, her tone striving for lightness.

“I’ll never stop wanting you,” he vowed.  Even if it got to the point where his body refused to cooperate, he would still crave Belle with every fiber of his being.

He groaned when she crushed her mouth against his like she was trying to drink the words from his lips.  With one hand Belle stroked his chest, her clever fingers finding that spot on his ribcage that always made him shudder.  The other curled around the base of his throat, her fingers finding his pulse point.

Gold wished she didn’t have to worry about this.  "I’m all right, sweetheart,“ he promised when she let him up for air.  

"You have to be,” she whispered.

“I’ll never stop fighting for you.”  If this disease wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t make it easy.  Ciaran Gold wasn’t leaving this world without a fight.  

When he tried to tug Belle down beside him, meaning to distract her from her worries, she eluded his grasp.  "I think you need some attention,“ she informed him, almost managing to sound normal.

Eager to regain the mood that they’d lost, Gold happily played along, lifting a shocked hand to his throat.  "Miss French, are you trying to seduce me?”

“I am.”  Belle’s hands went to his trousers, giving him a light stroke.  "Is it working?“

Groaning in the back of his throat, Gold lifted his hips, pressing himself shamelessly into her hand.  "Do you have to ask?”

With a chuckle, Belle lowered her head to kiss his chest as she set to work divesting him of the rest of his clothing.  Gold cooperated as best he could, fighting the urge to roll her onto her back and rut against her belly like an animal.  It had only been a month and a half since they last made love, but it felt like it had been centuries since he'd felt the bliss of her touch, and he was embarrassingly eager.

When Belle moved lower on the bed so she could brush her lips lightly against the head of his cock, Gold thrashed and moaned like a damned soul.  Beaming at his reaction, Belle leaned down to repeat the caress, but he knew his limits too well to allow her free reign.

Gold caught her shoulder.  "Oh, don’t do that.  I can’t take it,“ he pleaded.  

For an instant, Belle looked concerned, then she took his meaning, and a sultry smile blossomed on her face.  "I think you can.  Let me spoil you.”

Well, if she _insisted_ , it would be rude to argue.

Gold collapsed backwards and grabbed a handful of his own hair, pulling until his eyes watered as Belle slowly lowered her head to take him deep.  Mercifully, she kept her attentions light, her lips and tongue barely grazing over him, but even that was almost too much.  Teasing fingers drew patterns on his inner thigh, and he tried desperately to focus on finding meaning in those delicate strokes to keep himself from losing his mind as Belle carefully closed her lips around him.

A loud, hungry noise tore itself out of his throat as she stroked the underside of his cock with the flat of her tongue, the sensation making his entire body jolt.  When his heart slammed against his ribs, Gold took a deep breath and tried to relax, a twinge of fear distracting him from the marvelous things Belle was doing with her mouth.

Did his heart always do that while they were making love?

Not sure if he was merely excited or on the verge of a heart attack, Gold concentrated on breathing deeply and relaxing into the pleasure instead of fighting it.  As he did, the sensations seemed to intensify, spreading throughout his entire body instead of concentrating in his straining cock.  Every fiber of his being was humming with ecstasy, and he let out a slow, deep groan as Belle sucked tenderly.

Reassured that he wasn’t on the verge of cardiac arrest, Gold reached down to thread his fingers through Belle’s hair.  She purred in response, the vibrations making his toes curl.  "Sweetheart…"

The endearment was all he could manage, his accent so thick that he was all but incomprehensible.  Belle, however, seemed to understand perfectly.  With a little noise of agreement, she reached up to cradle his balls, giving him a warm squeeze before pressing them tightly against the base of his cock.

His hips rolled of their own volition, and Belle moved with him as he started to thrust, unable to hold back.  She was giving him so much, but he needed more.  "Please… sweetheart, _please_ …"

When she lifted her mouth off of him, Gold nearly wept.  An instant later, Belle wrapped her hand around his aching cock and pressed a tender kiss against the head.  Gold looked down the length of his body, his mind nearly shorting out at the picture she made, her lips swollen and wet with the moisture leaking from him.

He keened, his hips bucking, and Belle nuzzled against him, her lips moving against his tip.  "What do you want, Ciaran?  I’ll give you anything you want.“

There was only one possible answer to that question, and it took every bit of focus he had to pull himself together enough to voice it.  "In… in you.   _In_.  Let me _in_.”

“Oh yes,” she whispered, her voice rough.

Belle moved to straddle him at the same instant Gold attempted to roll her underneath him, the moment of confusion ending with the pair of them on their sides, facing each other.  Belle giggled, her brilliant smile lighting up his world, and when she draped her leg over his hip and reached down to wrap her fingers around him to line them up, Gold decided that this position would do nicely.

He groaned as he pushed forward, Belle’s body welcoming him.  Blissful heat soothed the throb of his arousal, and Gold sighed as he felt himself melting into her.  How could he have been foolish enough to believe he could live without this?

“I love you,” he murmured as he gazed into her eyes, seeing them go glassy.  

“I love you, Ciaran,” Belle vowed, and it was that love that would sustain him, no matter what the future held.

When Belle reached out to rest her hand over his heart, Gold immediately covered it with his own, holding it in place against his chest.  However many beats his heart had left, they were all for her.

Intense as their emotional connection was, his physical needs refused to be denied.  Helpless to resist, Gold rolled his hips, finding a rhythm almost immediately.  Conscious of Whale’s orders, he was careful to keep his movements slow, thrusting at an almost leisurely pace.  Now that he had Belle in his arms, there was no need to rush.  As far as he was concerned, they could do this forever.

“You feel so _good_.  Oh, I _missed_ you,” Belle moaned as she rubbed her nose against his, one hand kneading the tense muscles of his buttocks while the other held its position over his heart.

Her words fanned the flames of his desire higher, and Gold took a deep breath, applying the lesson he’d learned earlier.  He relaxed into the pleasure instead of trying to control his response, and it felt like he was standing in the eye of a hurricane.  It was only when he gave himself completely over to sensation that he was able to appreciate the awesome power of this primal connection.

He tilted his head to capture her lips, drinking down the soft little noises of pleasure Belle was making.  The rest of the universe faded away as they moved together.  For what felt like eternity, he maintained his slow pace, relishing the catch of Belle’s breath every time he thrust forward and the way she rocked her hips to follow him as he withdrew.  As he gazed into her eyes, Gold could feel the boundaries between them melting away, melding them into one single being, and he was willing to swear that could feel her pleasure as intensely as his own.

His thrusts became jerky and erratic as his control started to slip, but Belle only shuddered and clutched him closer, her nails digging into his flesh.  "That’s it, that’s it…" she urged him on.

Helplessly, Gold heaved himself forward, rolling Belle onto her back as he sought to push himself even deeper and lose himself in her completely.  Her legs went around his waist as she wrapped her arms around him, leaving him utterly surrounded by Belle.

With a grunt, he seized her mouth, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he buried himself in her to the root.  When Belle clenched around him, his climax hit him out of nowhere, leaving him grunting and straining against her as he spilled himself, his hips bucking in a desperate need to be closer.

Belle stroked his hair and back, kissing him tenderly as she gentled him through the long orgasm.  As the surge of ecstasy slowly ebbed away, he let his head drop to her shoulder and ran his tongue lazily over her skin.  His entire body hummed with the aftermath of sheer bliss, and he rumbled in contentment, wishing that he could purr.

“How do you feel?” Belle asked softly.

If she was worried about his heart, there was no need.  Right now, Gold was certain he was going to live forever.  "Never better.“

A faint sense of disquiet intruded on the afterglow, and he lifted his head in dismay.  "You didn’t come.”

With a crooked smile, Belle kissed the tip of his nose.  "I think you can remedy that.“

Taking his hand in hers, she guided it to the place where their bodies were still joined, and it took only a few strokes of his fingers before Belle was moaning in delight.  Gold watched her face avidly, drinking in every flicker of her expression.  Maybe it was for the best that he’d been selfish because now he had the luxury of concentrating fully on her.

"I love the way you look at me,” Belle whispered once she’d recovered.

Gold rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.  "How do I look at you?“

Belle pillowed her head against his shoulder as she once again placed her hand over his heart.  "Like I’m your whole world.”

She understood him perfectly.  Gold dropped a kiss against the top of her head.  "You are.“

Reaching down, he traced the curve of her hip.  "So, do you think we got you pregnant?”

Chuckling, Belle kissed his chest.  "Not _quite_ yet, I don’t think.  I think we’re going to need some more practice.“

Her words were music to Gold’s ears.  "I think that can be arranged.”

“ _After_ a nap,” she informed him, her voice brooking no disobedience.

Gold relented without argument.  Dozing with Belle in his arms would be a lovely way to spend the afternoon, and when they woke, they would both be ready for round two.  As far as restrictions went, he could live with the ones Whale had placed on them.  "I think common sense is working out quite well for us.“

"We should send Dr. Whale a fruit basket.”

Gold snorted with laughter at the mental image.  The look on the doctor’s face would be _priceless_ if they did that, and he was more than slightly tempted to call Belle’s bluff.  "We’ll order one after our nap.“

He could feel her smile against his skin.  "And maybe after we practice a little more.”

“ _Definitely_ after we practice.”

Gold cuddled Belle closer and closed his eyes.  With a nap and more practice to look forward to, the future was a wonderful place.


	24. Chapter 24

“Spruce or fir this year?”

Gold glanced out of the corner of his eye to watch Belle draw the corner of her lip into her mouth and nibble as she considered the important question.

“Fir smells better, but spruce is easier to decorate…” she mused as the Cadillac pulled into the tree farm’s parking lot.

By the time Gold found a parking place, she’d made her decision.  "Spruce.  Maybe ten feet?“

He snorted at the suggestion.  "Twelve at least.”

This was their first Christmas as a proper couple, and for that reason alone, it was important to pull out all of the stops.  Gold reached for Belle’s hand, using it to tug her closer for a kiss before they left the car, and as their lips met, he refused to consider the possibility that their first Christmas could also be their last.

The past three months had been magical.  He and Belle had been making wedding plans between adventures up and down New England.  The wider world might be out of their reach, but they’d found plenty to keep them occupied in their own backyard, ranging from exploring the whimsical Musée Patamécanique in Rhode Island to sipping mulled wine at an outdoor Christkindlmarket in Vermont.  Despite Whale’s warning that his heart condition would lead to an inexorable loss of strength, so far the only hint that all wasn’t entirely well with him was that his normal brisk walking pace had slowed slightly.  If it wasn’t for his extensive medication regimen, most days Gold could almost forget that he was dying.

The only shadow on their happiness, other than his impending death, was the fact that, despite their best efforts, Belle still wasn’t pregnant.  However, even that cloud had a silver lining.  Gold could imagine no better way to spend whatever time he had left than by working on that particular project.

And now it was Christmas.

Prior to Belle’s arrival in his life, Gold had ignored the holiday season, but his new housekeeper had refused to let him do any such thing.  Without so much as a by-your-leave, she’d filled the house with decorations, and Gold, smitten from the start, had adored every moment even though he’d tried his best not to let it show.

However, on one matter he’d been forced to put his foot down.  Belle’s holiday traditions featured artificial trees, and there was no way that Gold was going to permit her to bring a plastic and metal monstrosity into his home.  They would have a real tree or no tree at all.  

Belle had been agreeable to the idea, and a tradition was born.  On the first Saturday in December, they visited Anton Little’s tree farm and climbed the long slope leading from the small parking lot to the neat rows of trees, their efforts rewarded by a spectacular view of Storybrooke.  They would spend hours searching for just the right tree, and when they found it, Belle’s eyes would shine brighter than any Christmas light.

For the past three years, Gold had had to clench his fists in his pockets to keep from reaching for her in that moment.  This year there was no need for restraint, and while he didn’t want to wish time away, he was very much looking forward to kissing his fiancée senseless beside their perfect tree.

“Twelve feet?”  Belle’s laughing voice distracted him from his daydreams.  "We won’t have enough ornaments!“

"Then we’ll buy more.”  If only all problems were so easy to solve.

Belle’s eyes smiled at him as she leaned in to offer her lips for another kiss.  "Don’t you just have an answer for everything?“

"Always.”  He sighed into her mouth, shivering as Belle’s fingers stole into his hair.

Too soon, she pulled away, and when Gold tried to follow her and recapture her lips, Belle gave his hair a gentle tug.  "We’ll never find a tree if we never get out of the car.“

"We don’t _need_ a tree,” he pointed out.

“But I _want_ one,” she reminded him.  "Come on, Ciaran.  Happy wife, happy life.“

"Yes, dear,” he grumbled, hiding his smile as he played the role of a henpecked husband.

Belle stepped into his arms the moment he opened her car door for her and gave his arse an affectionate squeeze, her action hidden from view by his overcoat.  

“Minx,” he scolded, capturing her hand in his own and tucking it into his pocket to keep her warm.

Gold could feel himself grinning like an idiot as they approached the long slope leading up to the tree farm, but he didn’t even bother to try to hide it.  It was Christmas, after all.

Last year, Belle had challenged him to a race to the top, but this year, she kept herself tucked against his side, offering him her support as they started to climb.  To Gold’s displeasure, he quickly discovered that he needed it.  By the time they were a quarter of the way there, he was leaning heavily against her, his legs aching like he was trudging through quicksand.

“Ciaran?”  Belle wrapped her arm tightly around his waist.

The air was cold, but Gold could feel sweat trickling down the side of his face, his heart starting to pound from the exertion.  This was _ridiculous_.  The path followed a gentle incline, yet he felt like he was trying to climb Everest, and when he glanced up at the top, he realized they weren’t even halfway there.

His head swam, his stomach roiling.

“Stop,” he muttered, his feet taking a moment to follow his own directive.

Instantly, Belle had both arms around him, coaxing him to lean on her.  "I’ve got you.  Do you want to sit down?“

He wanted nothing more than to sit and rest, but only a few stumps were available for such a purpose, and Gold knew damned well that if he plopped down on one of them, he’d never get back up.  "Give me a moment.”

Belle nodded, her movement small and frightened.  When she adjusted her hold on him and rested her head against his chest, it took Gold a moment to realize that she was listening to his heart.  "I’m all right.“

"Are you?” she whispered.

Already his heart was resuming its normal rhythm, and his stomach calmed.  Reassured that he wasn’t about to drop dead from cardiac arrest, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and repeated, “I’m all right.”

“Okay.”  Belle rubbed his back under his coat, and her quiet support strengthened him until he no longer felt as though he was on the verge of collapse.

Tentatively, he straightened, relieved not to feel a return of the dizziness.  Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, he looked at the path that lay before them, their perfect tree waiting for them at the top.

His muscles ached with exhaustion, and Gold closed his eyes in despair.  It was a hundred feet to the top, and it might as well be a hundred miles.  He couldn’t.  He just _couldn’t._

“You go,” he murmured, unwilling to deprive Belle of the pleasure of choosing their tree.  "Find us the tallest spruce they have.“

"What about you?”

“I’ll wait for you in the car.”  Going down was certain to be easier than going up.  He’d be comfortable enough in the Cadillac.

“To hell with that.”  Without another word, Belle nudged him to start walking back to the parking lot.

“Belle…”

She looked up at him, eyes blazing.  "I’m not picking a tree without you!“

As he’d predicted, it was far easier to descend the slope, and in a matter of minutes, they were back at the car.  Gold didn’t protest when Belle bundled him into the passenger seat, but his heart cracked when she climbed behind the wheel, her eyes red-rimmed and bruised.  

"Should we go to the hospital?” she asked in a tight voice.

“Belle…”  Reaching out, he took her hands in his own, feeling the tension in her body.  "There’s nothing they can do.  We knew this day was coming.“

"But not _today_ ,” Belle whimpered.

“Sweetheart…”  Using his hold on her hands, Gold pulled her into his arms, doing his best to soothe her as she started to sob.  

This was what he’d wanted to spare her from, but Belle had refused to allow herself to be pushed away.  She’d insisted on remaining by his side, and now she was paying the price.  

“I love you, sweetheart.  I’m not going to stop fighting.”  He only wished her could promise her more.  

“Ciaran, please… _please_ …”  

Gold buried his face in her hair, glad she couldn’t see his own tears.  He would give Belle anything she wanted, but he couldn’t promise her what she wanted most— a future together.  

Since he couldn’t guarantee his survival, he refused to give her false hope.  All he could vow was that he would never stop fighting for her.  "I love you.“

He held her until she cried herself out, snuffling into his shirtfront.  "I love you too.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple.  "I’m glad to hear it.“

As he’d hoped, the comment made her snort out a laugh.  With a groan, Belle sat up, stealing his pocket square so she could wipe her face.  "Now what?” she asked softly.

Gold wasn’t sure whether she was talking about this afternoon or the future in general, so he opted to concentrate on practical matters.  "We can’t decorate a tree we don’t have.“

"Ciaran…” Her voice carried a warning.

Belle didn’t want to choose a tree by herself, but there was no way he could accompany her.  There had to be some kind of compromise.

“We could FaceTime,” he suggested.  "You can show me the trees you like, and I’ll give you my opinion.“

The face she pulled told him that she didn’t care for the idea.  "What about the lot by the grocery store?” she countered.  "We could get a pre-cut tree.“

Gold grumbled at the idea before he could stop himself.  Even at the peak of health, he’d never played woodsman.  It was Dove who came by to cut the tree they’d chosen and set it up in the house.  Even so, taking home a tree that had been sitting around and drying out in a parking lot after someone else harvested it didn’t sit right with him.  

Belle took a deep breath, trying to rally.  "Or we could get an artificial tree.  Some of the new ones are really nice, and they come pre-lit so—”

Gold cut off the flood of words with a kiss, feeling her laugh against his mouth.  He had a feeling that he’d been played, but he didn’t care.   _Anything_ was better than a fake tree.  "The tree lot it is.“

When Belle sat up, she kept her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.  "You’re sure you’re all right?  We could go home and rest and get a tree tomorrow.”

It was true that he was tired, but there was no guarantee that tomorrow would be better.  This afternoon’s misadventure had been a reminder that he didn’t dare take a single moment for granted.  Right now, he felt well enough to be out and about, and if he moved slowly and had to lean on Belle, at least he could still do the things that were most important to him, even if he couldn’t do them quite the way he’d planned.

“No, I want to get our tree today.  We can’t break tradition.”  He took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips.  

When Belle tried to smile, he could clearly read the worry in her eyes.  "I don’t want you overdoing it.“

"I won’t,” he promised, vowing to himself that he would keep his word even as he felt the compulsion to cram as much living as possible into whatever time he had left.

Belle’s eyes searched his for a long moment before she nodded.  "Okay.  Let’s go get our tree.“

Gold watched with amusement as she adjusted the seat so her feet could reach the pedals.  He wasn’t a tall man, but Belle was tiny indeed, although it was hard to remember that when feeling the full force of her personality.

Although the atmosphere in the Cadillac had lightened, Gold could still feel a faint sense of foreboding.  The last months had been so happy that it was easy to forget how limited his remaining time was.  Now, he could keenly feel the clock counting down.

He inhaled slowly through his nose and tried to release the feeling of trepidation.  This afternoon they would choose their tree, and that pleasant task deserved his full attention.  There would be time for worries later.

Still… the next time he and Belle discussed wedding plans, he would suggest that it might well be wise to be married sooner rather than later.


End file.
